


A Date For May 26th

by fabricdragon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Behind the Scenes, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Compliant, Canon compliant through Season 2, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, First Meetings, M/M, POV Mycroft Holmes, do not copy to any other site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-03-19 16:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18973699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: In honor of Intl. Redhead Day, May 26th i started a potentially canon compliant Sebcroft.Please pardon the brevity and etc. My laptop died and typing this on my phone.





	1.  May 26th 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the international redhead's day party in London

* * *

Mycroft hadn't expected to be able to attend this year's party. He usually couldn't -business after all took priority, and his duties were not constrained to bankers' hours- but his schedule had abruptly cleared…

And he was decidedly in need of a break: uncle Rudy was driving him mad- he should have retired years ago- and Sherlock….well the less said about that the better.

One night off...

He wouldn't have a date, of course, on such short notice, but this was hardly the type of event where he was going to be noticed…

Mycroft chuckled, "not noticed at all at this one."

For that matter this year's theme was historical...and masks were acceptable….hmmm… he didn't have time for a complex costume, but…

…

 

he checked himself in the mirror: yes, his scholar's robes, with a few adjustments, made for an excellent Galileo Galilei.

…

 

He was circulating through the crowd of  people done up as actors he didn't know, Boudiccas,  and Anne Bonneys, as well as the obligatory Queen Elizabeth the Firsts, when a startlingly fit man caught his attention.

His costume was familiar...but Mycroft couldn't quite place it…

The next time they crossed paths Mycroft politely asked, "could i buy you a drink, in exchange for a clue to your costume?

"I'd love to have YOU buy me a drink, and as to a clue?" The man laughed, his voice betraying his attendance at Mycroft's own alma mater. "My nickname is Tiger."

Mycroft offered his arm. "i'm called Michael, and we had the same literature professor, no doubt."

"What makes you say that?" The man said slipping his arm through Mycroft's as they headed to the bar.

"You have a clearly rebellious streak, and he despised William Blake." Mycroft smiled faintly, "I hadn't been very fond of him before that professor, but i could probably write a paper on the man now…"

"A bit of a rebel yourself?" He chuckled, "i'll start singing 'pretty rebel' at you if you like."

"Alas, my rebellious streak can only come out...well places like this." He waved a hand...and found Tiger putting a drink into it. "Thank you, but i had offered to buy…"

"You can buy the next one," he said, winking at the female bartender.

Mycroft waited until they were a bit away, "bisexual?"

Tiger startled, "yes?"

"Your wink at the bartender was a bit more interested than pro forma, and you did seem interested in me…"

"Well you're not shy, good! I'm leaving for-"

"Military service," Mycroft nodded, "i guessed from the haircut and the way you shine your shoes…"

"..."

Mycroft sighed. "My apologies...i do that and it always ends up aggravating people." No doubt he had chased off yet another attractive man.

"It surprised me, but...my father aggravates me, you don't. " then he gave a rakish grin. "my father is a homophobic git: i do a lot to aggravate people, from parents to professors."

"My family...doesn't care about that, but i am the older brother and my sibling is constantly in trouble:i don't think they notice me much." Mycroft hardly dared to hope.

"All responsibility and only letting yourself rebel when it's safe?"

"Basically."

His attractive smile got a bit more wicked. "How about we go to my hotel room and get our quota of  rebellion in before dawn?"

Mycroft looked the man over: _no, not a spy, not planted as bait-honestly interested_. "Assuming my work pager remains blessedly silent? I would be delighted."

"Oh God, your work keeps you on a leash like that?"

"Sadly yes, and i can't talk about it much, although it's mostly idiots that have problems they SHOULD be able to solve themselves…"

…

They were pulling each others clothing off moments after getting into the room. Tiger found it amusing that he hung up his clothes-he threw his costume over a chair.

He was indeed very fit, and quite good looking,with his head hair not quite as ginger as his beard now that he'd removed the mask.

"I...hope you aren't disappointed… I'm not as fit as-"

"Not many people are,"Tiger shrugged, "you're cute anyway."

"I am not cute," mycroft protested, even though he was flattered.

"Yeah, you are...lemme make you blush for real …" he almost growled the last and pulled Mycroft down onto the bed.

…

Mycroft's pager went off at the unholy hour of five a.m. and he dragged himself through a quick shower and came out…

To find Tiger with two plates of breakfast and coffee.

"Figured you had time to eat if i got you breakfast."

Mycroft smiled, "thank you...you are too kind, and...i hope we can…"

"Well, i have no idea when I'll be back in London, or where I'll be posted but…"

Mycroft gave him the phone number and dropbox that was available for personal use as well as business correspondence. "I don't check it often, but...you can write, or leave a message…"

"If all else fails, I'll try to get leave for May 26th…"

"I shall try to as well."

They shared an enthusiastic kiss goodbye and Mycroft headed back into the office.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the party: I have no idea if they have one, or did at the time, but in this universe they have one every May 26th.


	2. May 26th 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second meetings

Mycroft was sipping a ginger ale at the annual party- ginger ale because his stomach was in knots. Uncle Rudy would be stepping down this year, and already the increased pressure was painful. People wanted him to run things the same way, even though he could see better methods, better paths…

The arrival of a military man caught his attention.  The man was out of uniform, but Mycroft could see at a glance this was a sniper, an SAS officer, and...a killer, but he smiled as though he meant it when he turned, and his blue eyes were open and friendly under hair bleached rose gold from sun…

... _ Tiger _ ?

Mycroft stood slowly and the man's eyes met his…

He cut through the crowd with ease and dropped into the chair next to Mycroft.

"Missed you."

"You…" Mycroft had to clear his throat which seemed quite tight suddenly, "you look extremely good: the military agrees with you. Congratulations on getting into the SAS, by the way."

Tiger smiled, "you looked me up?"

"No...the...its obvious, to me." Mycroft changed the subject, "i believe i still owe you a drink, though."

"You do!" He grinned and Mycroft couldn't help but smile back a bit. "I have less than twenty four hours of leave before i report back, and i suddenly realized what day it was…."

"Ah yes, and how better to spend your time than...among our own kind."

"Exactly." Tiger sat back and spread out his arms, "the one place i won't hear any nasty jokes about redheads, or any other idiocy, and i don't stand out...for that anyway." He looked over, "is that why you're dying your hair?"

"Yes, gradually darkening it to deep brown...too...too many idiots, as you say. May i say that the sun bleach is...quite attractive on you. I have to envy you: i just burn and then freckle appallingly."

Tiger sat forward and gave him that crooked smile, "well...you know what they say about freckles and souls...you being in intelligence you probably swipe a good number."

Mycroft smirked and waved the waitress over, "another ginger ale- no, I'm suddenly feeling much better, i'll have whatever Tiger is having- and it's on me." 

Tiger ordered a mixed drink, not too sweet luckily, and after she left to get them Mycroft asked, "what makes you think i am in intelligence?"

"Now that i've dealt with a few in the field it's obvious, but i suspected before." He shrugged. "You really didn't look me up?"

"I...chose not to. I…" mycroft looked around thoughtfully, "as silly as it may seem, i somewhat take this one day, when i can, as being...aside?"

"What happens at the redhead day party STAYS at the redhead day party?" Tiger laughed, "i like it!" After a pause he added, "I'm Sebastian, but i honestly prefer Tiger."

"Michael is not my name, but…"

Tiger smirked, "it is for today."

Mycroft breathed and felt more tension leave him."Thank you."

They sat with their cocktails, and...circled around topics. Tiger bemoaned the military's regulations that were too lax in so many ways, and not lax enough where needed; Mycroft quietly spoke of a sibling with addictions, and how everyone wanted him to do his job exactly the way it had been done before…

"Exactly!" He shook his head, "If they want a ruddy automata, why hire intelligent people who can react on site!"

Mycroft nodded, "i...shall be trying to change things, when my...predecessor is fully retired- I've made some changes already- but the weight of tradition…" he made a face and sipped the last of his drink. "Normally i like tradition."

"Well...tradition has us heading off to a hotel…"

"You did not rent a hotel room this time, though."

"How the blazes…?" Tiger just shook his head, "you're right, i hadn't...any suggestions?"

Mycroft felt that rebellious streak gain traction, "i do, but we really shouldn't…" he saw the answering gleam in his companions eyes.

"Shouldn't, but we both want to? You certainly know how to get me going."

"Alas for that rebellious streak of mine…" Mycroft smirked. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

…

They arrived at a flat meant for housing secure guests, debriefing agents, and occasionally allowing 'minor bureaucrats' to rest closer to the offices...Mycroft got them both in and then walked over to the bar. "In for a penny…"

"Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a goat," Tiger agreed.

Once they both had a glass of the very fine scotch Tiger raised his glass, "to rebellions, redheads, and...recreation."

"Not what i usually think of as a toast, but…" they touched glasses.

They spoke a bit more, and when they moved to the bedroom Mycroft found himself experimenting with some things that he had never dared-not even in university.

Still, the bite marks and such were all well below the collar, and Uncle Rudy wasn't THAT observant- he'd just stay clear of Sherlock or his mother for a few weeks... 

  
  



	3. 2000 to 2003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimpses and occassions

May 26th 2000

Mycroft had received a letter to his drop box well in advance of the party apologizing that Tiger would not have leave or be in the country in time, and telling him to "rebel a bit on my behalf".

The letter was, of course, a giveaway to his unit and so on- to Mycroft; it would not have been to anyone else. After a slight hesitation, Mycroft arranged for a small present to reach him for the 26th. 

Sadly his rebellion that year was curtailed.

As he sat in the intelligence center- instead of at the party-  listening to idiots denying their best intercept, he hoped that Tiger wouldn't bear the brunt of their foolishness…

*

May 26th 2001

Mycroft went to the party -after permitting his beard to grow a trifle, since his head hair was now firmly dyed brown- and tried to relax some.

Tiger- Sebastian Moran- was posted somewhere classified, and quite dangerous right now…

He probably enjoyed it.

Mycroft had run his last field mission and would just as happily never set foot out of London again, ever, but from the glimpses of his military career Tiger did not share his opinion.

Mycroft took a quite exuberantly ginger-haired political aide to a hotel and "rebelled a bit".

*

May 26th 2002

Mycroft would scarcely have remarked the date, except that he received an extremely interesting video from Tiger.

Any ordinary man might have sent...well...ordinary rebellion, porn, something of the sort, but…

The video of Tiger- nearly fully dressed in field gear - reciting William Blake dramatically while pleasuring himself ….

Ahem

*

May 26th 2003

He attended the party after pulling a few strings quietly to ensure that Tiger's unit had the late May rotation back into the country.

Tiger apparently had arrived early, and was cutting quite the swath through the younger, more attractive attendees…

Mycroft sat with a drink and tried not to be jealous.

"Are you having ginger ale again?" Tiger's voice from quite startlingly close by.

"Yes? I had thought you were...occupied."

He dropped into the available chair, "i won't kick any of them out of bed, but… i can get casual sex anywhere."

Mycroft had no doubt of that. Tiger had matured spectacularly: where Mycroft's hairline was receeding and he was becoming more insecure of his looks,Tiger was more impressive and attractive than before. He also looked more agitated and...if anything, more dangerous.

"You look quite well; i have no doubt you could have your pick."

"Yes, probably," Tiger grinned that same crooked grin on a harder face, "but my pick is sitting over here with a ginger ale." 

Before Mycroft could reply, Tiger chuckled, "the blush gives you away, you know."

"Ah yes, the indication of a true redhead," Mycroft smiled, "i..uh...appreciated your video, but wasn't it a bit risky?"

"Yes, so?" 

Mycroft couldn't think of much to say to that. "Um...so...ah…" He drew a finger around the rim of his glass.

"Is that oh-so-very nice flat from last time empty?" Tiger asked casually while his shoe nudged Mycroft's under the table.

"No," Mycroft chuckled, and when Tiger looked disappointed he continued,  "i may have reserved one that is a bit more private…"

Oddly once they were there they spent more time talking. Neither of them going into details, but each knowing the other could be trusted to keep matters private.

...

"...and then my commander yells about it! I just did what i was told to…"

...

"... and he's now working for someone that is considered a security risk, so…"

…

"...The worst part is all the guys who want sex, but come unglued at the suggestion they might be anything but straight and desperate…"

…

"So many idiots in politics, what is the point of paying for intelligence reports and then ignoring them?"

"Seen enough of that in the field."

"I...did gather that." Mycroft hesitantly suggested, "i could help you put in for a transfer...the...the few things I'm seeing from that area look...problematic."

"The main problem is idiot commanders, but the work is good...look, Michael...i LIKE what i do...i know i went into it mostly to drive my father-"

"I did get that impression,  Major."

Tiger frowned, "Captain."

Mycroft shook his head, "Major: the paperwork hasn't gone through yet."

Tiger laughed, "Well damn, i figured they wouldn't give it to me!"

"You earned it,  but…" Mycroft tried to impress his concerns on the man, "sooner or later these sorts of operations...they get found out, and then…"

Tiger shrugged, "i can't think of anything else to do, honestly; it…" he shook his head, "enough with the 'maybe somedays'...right now?"

 

Tiger stayed in London for three days...Mycroft didn't get much sleep, but he did get a much better understanding of field conditions and the capabilities of elite forces…

and he had to replace a few items in the safe house.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not detail every postcard or letter, of course, but they are infrequent.


	4. Several months in 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work has been the death of far too many relationships for them both.
> 
> TW violence and non detailed bigotry and slurs.

May 2004 

The month of May had Mycroft sending a carefully worded letter to Tiger letting him know that he had a new relationship, which might limit his availability for...well, anything but companionship.

Tiger sent back a letter congratulating him, telling him that the lucky guy better be good to him-or else- and pointing out that he wasn't adverse to a threesome whenever he finally got back to London.

It was so cheerfully honest, that it made Mycroft smile.

Not much else did.

Sherlock…well his parents were following the advice of the latest therapist and had cut him off completely.

*

August 2004

He'd almost not been in time. Sherlock had been dealing with far less scrupulous people, trading in...favors… to get his drugs since he had no access to his trust fund.

Mycroft all but slept at medical, in addition to dealing with a worsening political situation…

His relationship with Jeffrey had to take a backseat…

It turned out Jeffrey objected to that.

After a mere three weeks of being put off in favor of Mycroft's work and "damn druggie brother", he broke it off.

Mycroft had no one to talk to about how much that hurt, and in a evening of weakness penned a rather maudlin letter to Tiger…

He regretted it almost as soon as it was too late to retrieve the mail.

He got a letter back from Tiger offering to hunt the man down if it would help, and telling him he needed a better class of boyfriend.

… Tiger probably could hunt the man down, and get away with it-it was after all close to the black ops he was doing for the military (and through the military sometimes MI6)

Mycroft replied with an agreement that he needed to be much choosier, and a firm request to leave the man alone.

*

October 2004

Mycroft had a cryptic postcard from Tiger: Literally cryptic, it was in code.

After decrypting it, it requested that he go to a restaurant at a specific date and time…

Mycroft knew that Tiger didn't have any official leave, but in his line of work he MIGHT have unofficial leave…

He did!

"I can seriously make it look like an accident." Tiger said quietly over the appetizers.

"I know. So could i- if i hired the right people- he...he didn't do anything like damage my things, he just…"

"Told you to fuck off when you were taking care of your brother, from what you said."

"He...did not think…"

"No he didn't think, end of sentence." Sebastian shook his head, "well...anyway, how is your brother?"

"Not...well, but better.  Our parents are distraught- the therapist had assured them that this was the correct course." Mycroft sighed. "But please let's not waste our time over things i cannot change."

They discussed inconsequentials until dessert.

"I uh...rented a hotel room." Tiger shrugged, "i know you don't have...my response to problems, so if you aren't interested i understand. "

"I...don't know? But i would certainly like to continue our evening…"

"Then let's go to my hotel and if all we do is talk? It's okay."

"I am...i deeply appreciate this." Mycroft said quietly as they walked to the hotel.

"Michael...you of all people know that my work comes first, second, and third...but my friends are fourth, and i don't have many."

"That...was what he couldn't understand," Mycroft sighed, "work...and my brother's life…"

Sebastian put an arm around him and squeezed just a bit. "Better you found out sooner than later, but you change your mind and i can-"

Someone laughingly called out an insult, but Mycroft's ear picked up threat…"Tiger, threat." And he disengaged the handle of his umbrella. 

It felt very nearly like an electric charge had gone through Sebastian's muscles and he smiled in a distinctly unfriendly fashion. "You want a piece? Come get it."

The group of hoodlums  circled them, goading and sneering at their 'posh' clothes and using insulting terms for gay men. 

And then one got too close with a small baton or club…

Mycroft tripped one with the umbrella as he used the motion to draw the blade.

Tiger...may as well have turned into a tiger.

By the time Mycroft had tripped the one - and blocked the other while cutting a rather crucial tendon in his arm- Sebastian had efficiently broken two of his own. The last one tried to run and Sebastian caught up to him and threw him efficiently to the curb.

Mycroft held his blade to the throat of the first fellow he had tripped. "Lovely night for a walk, don't you think?"

His eyes were huge and he was babbling incoherently.

"Shall we let them scurry back off to the sewers with the other rats?" Sebastian was grinning in a remarkably...sharp...fashion.

"Unless you feel like taking up the rest of our evening with security paperwork,yes."

Tiger picked up his umbrella sheath and slid his arm back around him. "Yes, lovely night  for a walk."

The fellow scrambled away as Mycroft wiped the blade clean and re-sheathed it.

After they got to the hotel, and the door was firmly shut, Mycroft smiled, "my only regret is i can't tell anyone how well my training worked just now."

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Mycroft and purred, "i had no idea you had a blade in that, or knew how to use it- may i say that is sexy as fuck."

"I may have idolized the Avengers just a bit." Mycroft admitted, "and the efficiency with which you broke those three bare handed was...exceptional."

"I get revved up after combat, and there's this gorgeous man with a sword in my arms…"

"It isn't quite the aphrodisiac it is for you, but...i believe we could take this to the bed…"

He didn't have time to say more as Tiger picked him up! And carried him into the bedroom.

…

There were worse ways to forget about your ex, and your other problems, for a few hours.


	5. 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft goes to an annoying meeting

Mycroft had to travel out of the country for a meeting-not a field assignment, thank God, just a political meeting in a nice clean hotel- and despite the complete breach of security involved he sent word to Sebastian…

He didn't get a reply, but then Tiger might not even get the notice in time.

…

"Good night sir," the guard said as he went into his suite for the night.

"Good night. " Mycroft nodded as he went in. He had taken off his jacket and was walking toward the bedroom when his eye picked up details out of place…

"If there is an assassin in my rooms," Mycroft called out, "please do me the favor of making it quick and then taking out the Bolivian representative-better yet, take him out first and come back after i get some sleep…"

A familiar deep chuckle and then Tiger walked out of the bedroom, "well, there is an assassin in your room, but i have no interest in the Bolivian rep."

Mycroft couldn't help but smile, "i am very glad you got the message i never sent because it would be a terrible breach of security...but that said; it is truly appalling that you got into my rooms."

"True, your guards are...well, it's a good thing I'm a friendly assassin."

Mycroft gestured to the bar, "care to help me check for poisons then?"

They did, in fact, verify the seals on everything before opening something and sitting down with a drink.

...

"You...must rate rather higher in things than i thought to get this level of security,  or be at this kind of meeting." Tiger idly commented after they'd been relaxing a bit.

"I have a great deal of responsibility, somewhat less authority, and...next to no time off, if that tells you anything."

"About as much as i tell people about my work."

"...speaking of which…"

"Michael, you've said it every time we've met,  and in a few messages too: i know you think it's going to go bad, but...I'm far too good for them to toss me aside, and i won't get caught."

"You might not, but anyone else? All it takes is for a hint of your operation to get to the public and-"

"It won't.  Anyway, no one knows I'm here, your security is mediocre, and...do you actually want me to assassinate the Bolivian? I could…" Tiger looked rather enthused, in fact.

"...no…"

Sebastian grinned, "i heard hesitation…"

Mycroft sighed, "i would love it if he ceased to exist, but it would drag the meetings out appallingly. For the love of everything don't ask me again: I might say yes and be stuck here for another week."

Tiger laughed, "oh i know how that goes...there's a fellow in the American liaison group that my entire unit is one step away from drawing straws on who gets to take him out. We have a side chat about what kind of accident to make it look like."

Mycroft just shook his head and refilled the drinks.

"How is your brother?" He asked it carefully, as if uncertain whether to bring him up.

"In rehab." Mycroft shook his head, "i...hope it will take."

"Don't think it will?"

"I think he wants to quit but...he has little else to...fill the void."

"That's a problem."

"And addictions are..not uncommon in my family."

"Oh?"

"It's not always drugs, but...many of the family found solace or stimulation in extremes of some kind,  medication, or other habits."

"I guess i can't picture it," Sebastian shrugged and put his glass down, "i only know you, after all."

"Which should tell you a lot, in fact."

Mycroft couldn't help but relax as Tiger wrapped him in his arms, "you don't drink to excess, never got a hint of drugs…"

"My coping methods are usually extreme control, and...bordering on diagnosed OCD," Mycroft sighed, "and i do not permit myself to indulge over much in sweets, because i used to...and it was very hard to stop."

"I can picture the control being a sort of addiction… but you still have your rebel streak so it's ok."

Mycroft's reply faltered under Tiger walking him toward the bed while whispering...suggestions.

…

The two days he was able to stay were the most bearable part of the meeting- Mycroft almost stopped thinking about how to remove the more annoying of the other representatives.

He didn't know how to explain that Tiger had himself become something of a habit…

 

*

Sebastian made Colonel that year, as well as getting a few awards and commendations that he would never be able to explain.

...

And Mycroft heard even more concerns spoken at very high levels that Sebastian Moran was perhaps a bit too good at what he did.


	6. 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was foretold has come to pass...and a bargain is struck.  
> (Still writing on my phone, sorry for the typos)

Mycroft looked the file over one last time. It was accurate, as far as things went :Sebastian Moran was a vicious killer with a sadistic streak and no respect for law or authority.  He was guilty of crimes both small and large-made more damaging to Britain by the fact that the worst offenses had been semi-officially sanctioned. He was a danger, and should be removed; permanently and swiftly.

Mycroft had done all that he could to keep that from happening, now it was up to Tiger.

He ordered the guards to stand by, turned off all recordings, and ordered the man brought in.

He was brought in hooded, shackled and thoroughly restrained, after being in military confinement for weeks- the guards were afraid of him.

Once they restrained him to the chair Mycroft gestured for the guards to leave.

"Are you certain, sir?"

Mycroft arched an eyebrow and nodded. Once they were gone he turned on the overrides on the door and observation areas .

"Whatever you want," Sebastian's voice was a low snarl that Mycroft had never heard, "The answer is no."

Mycroft carefully loosed his hood, "There are no recordings, and no one else here, but i trust that-"

Sebastian's voice dropped from the hostile snarl to a near whisper. "Michael?"

"To you, yes…" Mycroft found his own voice and expression softening. "Let me unlock you…"

Tiger kept his eyes on Mycroft and he marveled, "i never thought I'd see you again…" then that flash of a crooked grin, "i know you aren't breaking me out-you were never that rebellious- but do i get a last weekend with a hot ginger?"

Mycroft allowed his hand to brush Tiger's cheek. "Sadly not, but...you would be sentenced to years-decades-in prison…"

"I wouldn't last a month before someone had me killed," Sebastian didn't move as Mycroft undid his shackles.

"And if you did? I know you too well: prison would be hell."

"So…?" Sebastian rubbed his wrists and asked if he could get up.

"Just don't try to leave, but otherwise, yes."

He stood up and moved away from the restraints and stretched. Mycroft had to appreciate the view, despite the circumstances.

"I knew you were in intelligence; i knew it was high level, but…" Sebastian looked at him thoughtfully, "alright, i don't have a clue…"

"as i said: i know you too well. I should not even be involved in this case- it's military, and personal…" he shook his head, " i shouldn't be involved."

Sebastian ran a finger over the glass 'mirror'. "Really no one watching?"

Mycroft touched a button on the control and the observation room became visible. "No one."

Tiger crossed the room in two strides and had Mycroft in his arms, "even if it's just goodbye…"

Mycroft knew better-it would just hurt more- but…

…

When they came up for air from the kiss- and Tiger's hands roaming a bit- Mycroft managed to say, "I've found you an option...it's not much chance, but…"

"You found…?" Tiger reluctantly let him go. "From you I'll hear it."

Mycroft got the file out. "There is a person that the British Government wishes removed, but we cannot-"

"Can't get caught, and need someone disavow-able." Sebastian completed it.

"At the basics, yes. As far as my… as far as anyone else who knows about this is concerned; it's a suicide mission." Mycroft looked up and met his eyes, "if you accept, your record will be edited: you will have been discharged under questionable circumstances, but not...convicted. You will have money wired to your account for expenses, and a rather large bonus if you survive- they do not expect to have to pay it."

Softly Tiger asked, "so where do you stand on it?"

"I have looked over the mission, Colonel, and found a few points of intelligence that others have overlooked:  with that additional information i believe there is a chance that you-possibly only you-could succeed." Mycroft handed him the file, and then the notes he had made.

Sebastian nodded at the table, "May i?"

"Of course. I...brought Indian take out and tea."

Sebastian smiled and sat down with the file.

…

Sebastian cleared his throat when he was done going over it all. "There's a REASON they think it's suicide."

"Yes, it...was the best i could manage."

Sebastian grinned suddenly, "it sounds like fun."

Mycroft studied the man - _totally and completely serious-_ "i admit i thought you might enjoy a challenge,  but fun?"

"Without your additional notes it wouldn't be, probably," he admitted, "but… i never made any secret of how much i enjoyed my work."

"I know…"

"So when do i have to leave?"

"They  wanted to give me three hours to convince you to take it; i held out for twelve."

"It took two hours to read the file!"

Mycroft nodded, "They do not know about my additions, of course."

Sebastian finished the dessert, "So...we have 9 hours left, and no one watching us…"

"It...already hurts, Tiger: we will scarcely be able to see each other even if you-"

"When," Sebastian said firmly. "When i successfully finish this job… and...i know. My security clearance is beyond shot right now…" he stood up and leaned his hip on the table, "if i'm not going to  get shot down after killing the bastard guards, at least give me a better send off."

"...were you going to? They looked frightened of you."

"The new ones? The ones who brought me in here? Maybe, maybe not.   The ones i've been dealing with for the last while? Oh hell yes."

"I shall have to look into that,"Mycroft made a note to make some guards truly miserable.

"I...could try to meet you...somewhere outside of England...but…"

"We had enough trouble getting together once a year, i know, but...i'll keep in touch. So?" He ran a hand down Mycroft's cheek-mycroft couldn't keep himself from leaning into it.

…

Mycroft was right: it hurt even more when he walked off under guard to leave for the mission.

He couldn't quite bring himself to regret it, though.

…

Mycroft insisted on the bonus being paid into Colonel Moran's -Sebastian Moran's- account despite the intelligence reports claiming no survivors.

He watched the account with his hopes plummeting for over a month…

And then it was emptied, transferred through several holding accounts…

The next week he received an unsigned, blank save for the address and printed text, postcard:

It was a picture of a tiger bounding across the terrain away from a cage: the text was for a project rehabilitating captive tigers for release into the wild-or a preserve at least.

Mycroft tucked the postcard into his book of poems by Blake,  and allowed himself an evening to wallow in sentiment.

  



	7. 2007 and a bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra clearance black box blues (i couldnt resist)   
> Politics at this level are cut-throat.

Over the next few months Mycroft received a few covert, but very kind, messages from Tiger. They were mostly bland enough on the surface-the kind of letter a distant ex-lover might send to someone they hadn't seen since college- but the subtext, and in some cases actual code, was...sweet.

He never mentioned what he was doing, but from his own intelligence resources Mycroft noticed a pattern over that year: a number of Sebastian's former comrades-the best, the ones who liked their work altogether too much and/or the ones who were loyal to Colonel Moran- were disappearing.

It wasn't the government making them vanish- although a few had been quietly removed and a few sent to prison…

...

It really was unfair that these men, who had been acting under orders from Britain-no matter how illegally or ill advised- were being so treated now.

...

He sent a message to Tiger pointing out that two of his former command were being transferred from one prison to another, the dates, routes, and- in at least the one case-where the "accident" was scheduled to kill the man.

Amazingly, even when both of those men were "killed" in transportation accidents- along with the guards and in that one case the clean-up crew- the military liaison, Crescent, didn't bring it to the other Ultra clearance individuals…

Mycroft started cheerfully piling up evidence to have him removed.

…

Some time later he got a greeting card that had an image of children from some black and white American television show and the words "Happy Father's Day from your little rascals".

(It seemed the show had been called 'the little rascals')  It didn't take his level of analysis to detect the meaning of it: Sebastian's team was re-assembling around him, including the two Mycroft had assisted with.

Over the next several months after that he received post cards, greeting cards and so on...and in careful code, scattered over several mailings, there was a drop box and an email…

...

Mycroft sent a test message inquiring about how his nephews were doing since getting out of rehab.

He received a reply that a few of the boys had gotten banged up a bit in a car accident, but nothing serious, and they were going to be kept too busy to get into trouble again.

...

Sebastian made a politely veiled offer to remove anyone, at any time, for him…

When Mycroft stopped smiling he replied that he was going to use the existing circumstances to remove someone, so he already had in a way.

…

They each suggested places and dates they could meet...while knowing work would very likely interfere...

For the most part Mycroft could almost pretend that nothing had changed- that Sebastian was simply very busy on assignment and they would be able to see each other again soon.

It was easier that way.

...

Every now and then news crossed his desk about an operation that had Tiger's signature to it; every now and then the topic of inconvenient-and occasionally convenient- assassinations that they had not arranged came up in meetings; and eventually a case that was obviously done with that unit's tactics came up-obvious even to the others- and he acted. 

...

"So, i saw the case in question," he smiled thinly at Love and Porlock across the table, "and it seems our military liaison has not been doing due diligence."

"What?" Crescent sputtered, "what has this to do with me?"

"A good question," Porlock asked-he knew Mycroft disliked Crescent, but not why.

Mycroft pointed out that the work in the explosives was clearly black operations SAS.

"well, it looks it, but many-"

"And as it happens we are missing a black ops SAS demolitions and sabotage expert." Mycroft narrowed his eyes and tried not to rub his hands together.

"We are?" Love sat forward as did the rest,

"Yes, and this disaster here," Mycroft opened another file, "has all the hallmarks of yet another 'missing'  military man: a high level cryptographer." Mycroft had stumbled over that one, and was happy to have it since that wasn't Tiger's group at all-he didn't want them pointed at Sebastian after all, just Crescent.

"I have no idea what you are talking about!" Crescent tried to sound angry, but... _ guilt, nervousness _ ...and the others began to notice…

"If you don't,  then you are incompetent: if you do, you are lying to us." Mycroft brought the list of missing military 'people of interest' up on the large screen. It included some of Tiger's men-he couldn't avoid that-but many others as well, from every branch of the military.

Love hissed and Porlock swore quietly; Langdon asked thoughtfully, "i was told that the naval officer-third name down, second column- had been removed under our orders?"

"We were told that by Crescent, " Mycroft nodded, grateful for them bringing that case up so quickly ,"and then i looked into it once...issues," he raised an eyebrow, "became obvious. The removal agent reported him dead, and then was killed himself on the way back to England: no identifiable body- in either case - was found…"

Forseti, elder of the group-fossil practically- and usually silent, spoke for the first time: "And you DIDN'T  think that was noteworthy, Crescent?" 

"I...well it was reported…"

"Likewise," Mycroft pointed to the man on the list whose transfer information he himself had handed to Tiger, "this army officer was 'killed' by a removal team...who themselves died in a...what, freak accident? Just like the naval officer three years ago."

…

By the end of the day Crescent was in secure holding, and everyone was busy.

It did actually seem that there had been quite the concerted cover up of someone acquiring former British assets over the last five years.

Crescent would either be dead-after they peeled every answer out of him- or dead quickly, depending on whether he was guilty of any if this, or just too incompetent to be trusted.

Mycroft was betting on a deliberate cover up...to avoid anyone finding out he couldn't handle it himself.

Mycroft would gain increased authority over the military-sharing it with a few others- and Forsetti was retiring any day...slowly but surely he was gaining the power to go with the responsibility he already carried.

That Tiger's acquisitions would be lost in the  older, and unrelated, cases was a plus.

...and now he could start doing something about Sebastian Moran.

 


	8. 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting in Denmark...

Late May found Mycroft in Denmark: while not home to the first International Redhead Day,  it was home to the oldest party… he sent a message to Tiger, uncertain of his current whereabouts…

It turned out he was already in Denmark.

"I missed you." Was the first thing Tiger said when Mycroft  arrived at the hotel suite.

"I missed you a great-" Mycroft cut off at the addition of some scars on Sebastian's face, and more across his bare shoulder and torso. " what happened?"

Almost as soon as he said it the deductions crystallized  in Mycroft's mind and he narrowed his eyes, "you were badly hurt on that job...you didn't tell me…"

"You would have worried." Tiger's crooked grin hadn't changed at all.

"Of course i would have! Do you think i didn't worry as it was?"

He came up and put his arms around Mycroft, "you have enough to worry about without me. I succeeded, i lived, i got some interesting scars."

"It… they actually suit you...but I'm not happy you were hurt."

"I'm not thrilled about the getting hurt part, but...after the healing phase- which looked awful- i thought they added a bit." He grinned wickedly, "a few pretty young things agree with you that they suit me- you should hear the stories i make up about them."

"Obvi...this i have to hear…" Mycroft tilted his head, "wait, you have a girlfriend? No...a boyfriend? Are they going to be upset?"

Sebastians mouth dropped open and then he shook his head with a small smile, "i keep forgetting about how you just know things… i don't...exactly...have a boyfriend."

"Exactly?"

"I'd LIKE to have a boyfriend, but he's… i dunno what's up actually." He pulled Mycroft down onto the sofa next to a side table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"Champagne? I suppose a late toast to your survival is in order," Mycroft nodded, "i rather drowned my worries in tea- and occasional harder drink- for a month."

Sebastian poured them both a glass, "to out-living the bastards."

"Illegitimis non carborundum" Mycroft said with a smirk.

Sebastian choked,  "My rebel is quoting bad American dog latin?"

"Nonsense," Mycroft put a mock injured and haughty look on his face, "it's British dog latin, used by the intelligence department in the second world war."

"It is?! I only heard it from the American troops."

"Above your paygrade, Colonel; national secrets you know."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and poured more champagne, "i honestly can't tell if you're having me on…?"

"Firstly, no, i am not: Eric Partridge-you may have heard him referenced at Oxford- cites it in use very early in the war." Then he smiled down into his champagne, "as to 'having you on' i rather hoped to in a more literal sense, but i won't be party to cheating…"

"Heh.." Sebastian grinned down into his own champagne, "we don't have a relationship of that sort for me to cheat on… I'm TRYING but he keeps putting me off."

"Drop him immediately, he has horrible taste." Mycroft nodded solemnly.

Sebastian replied in a stage whisper, "he's a brunet!"

"Not even a ginger? Good Lord, man, what were you thinking?"

They stared at each other until neither could hold the solemn expressions and then they both collapsed in laughter.

…

The next morning after breakfast-and after discussions of what to wear to the party tonight- Mycroft and Sebastian both started talking… And then after a round of "oh, after you!" And "no i interrupted, i insist" they ended up laughing again.

Finally Mycroft gestured to Sebastian, "please, you first, Tiger."

"I...was going to ask about your brother."

Mycroft tried not to let the sadness show too much.

Sebastian winced. "That bad?"

"He is using again, and fooling his therapists." Mycroft sighed, "he's not at my level, you understand, but more than intelligent enough to fool most people...until it becomes obvious."

"I used to play with the military psychs," Sebastian nodded, "until i got bored of it."

"So...tell me about this brunet with terrible taste you are chasing."

Tiger sighed, "well...first of all i picked up some longer term contract work for my team…"

Mycroft nodded, "i did get that impression. Do you know if they are behind the other missing former British assets?"

Sebastian blinked, "other? Uh...well i didn't know there were any? So no, no clue." He hesitated, "they might be? They certainly knew far too much about us…"

Mycroft made a face, "annoying. So...this brunet works with the long term contract?"

"Supposedly he's a minion: you know, carry messages and so on?"

Mycroft sniffed, "and supposedly i am a minor government functionary."

"About that, i think." Sebastian shrugged.  "He's whip smart, and...he plays dumb. He can't fool me on that: you know how smart people just...they carry themselves differently, their eyes are different…"

Mycroft nodded.

"He looks interested at me, but...in a more aggressive way? When he thinks I'm not looking, and then goes back to 'gosh no mister scary killer,' as soon as he thinks I'm looking." He grinned wickedly at Mycroft, "carries knives, too...i do so love a man who knows his way around a blade…"

Mycroft felt himself blushing again.

"Perhaps he thinks it would be inappropriate,  or too risky, since you are...ah...an employee."

"Maybe, maybe he thinks i don't realize he's...much higher up than he pretends."

"I advise you to find time to speak to him in private, and...be plain.  I know i entirely failed to recognize someone was interested until a coworker informed me…"

Sebastian stared at him, "you can tell what branch of the military I'm in by the way i style my hair and tie my shoes, but you didn't notice someone was FLIRTING?"

"Ah...err...we, uh, all have our blind spots…"

"Well if he's anything like you… so you are saying he may not notice I'm flirting even though he is...well a damn sight smarter than he pretends?"

"If he's anything like me," Mycroft sighed, "he may have a concern that he is engaging in wishful thinking; he may not notice at all; or he may not know how to respond if he does notice."

Sebastian smiled and shook his head, "so come right out with it and then ask him to give me a clear answer?"

"If he is like me at all? Yes." Mycroft hesitated, " and listen to his reply...he may be saying what he thinks is the 'correct' answer…"

"I'll  keep that in mind." Sebastian shrugged, "so enough about potential new relationships- i have a gorgeous, brainy, blade-wielding redhead right here..and a party in a few hours...whatever shall we do until then?"

"Point out that by next year it should be safe for you to visit London?" Mycroft couldn't help but smile. "I've been working on your situation...within a few months you should be a 'contract employee' of the SIS."

Sebastian inhaled sharply, "you...you have? You...i could visit my sister?"

"Yes?  I...hadn't known you were on speaking terms with your family."

"Not my father, God knows, and you know my mother passed when i was in school...but my sister was...our father kept her squashed down pretty hard, there wasn't much she could do…"

" i didn't look past your immediate situation: I could see what i can do to help her?"

"Assuming she hasn't turned into...well, what my father wanted? If you can get her out of there it would be a miracle...thank you."

"One older sibling to another? Of course."


	9. 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last pre-canon chapter and introducing a canon character. or two

It took a bit of work to get Tiger’s sister an interview with  his office without tipping his hand on the relationship. It was fortunate that she had exactly the sort of  lower end nobility education that made her a suitable hire: a great deal of diplomatic and protocol training, a solid understanding of office work, and the very British idea that a civil service job was better than most options at her income level (nearly nil, as her father was restricting her inheritance to keep her at home).

She took the job offer with gratitude and enthusiasm as the chance to get out from under her father’s thumb that it was.

Mycroft found Rebecca Moran to be a quiet, reliable worker. Anthea, his PA for the last year, found her rather skittish, and in need of more self confidence… 

Mycroft informed her in confidence about Rebecca's  father...

So Rebecca found herself moved in to Anthea's building, "security you know", and Mycroft began to wonder if he would be buying them a wedding gift before long, or if Rebecca was simply a 'project' for Anthea to build up…

He supposed he would find out, soon enough.

Sebastian wrote bland  _ seeming _ postcards and letters- as did Mycroft- and Mycroft was thanked quite sincerely for his relationship advice, so he presumed that Tiger's attempts to pursue mister 'just a minion' went well. 

Mycroft had little good to report in his own life until a near miracle occurred…

Sherlock had been off somewhere, shooting up, and had staggered into a crime scene declaring it to be a murder.

And a police detective had listened to him.

Mycroft ended up having to go down to retrieve him, but Detective Inspector Lestrade hadn't thrown him in jail, just had him held as a material witness.

And Sherlock had been right; it was a murder.

Mycroft had a dizzying recollection of Sherlocks insistence that the young boy who had drowned, so many years ago, had been murdered…

_ He...hadn't been? He'd had a seizure… _

_ But…? _

Well it didn't matter now,  what mattered was that his brother went into rehab with a will this time; not sullenly, not trying to make people stop bothering him, but because the Detective Inspector was willing to let him help on cases-if he was clean.

Mycroft ran the most exhaustive check on the man possible-an odd background for a police detective, but not a security issue- and had him brought in for a personal interview…

He passed brilliantly.

He deduced that Mycroft was Sherlock's relative; told him that  he would take the money for watching Sherlock, but ONLY if he sent it directly to a charity helping at risk youths…

And agreed to keep him informed of anything that might be a danger...but nothing else. 

"And next time buy a lad lunch, eh? I got tired of being hauled off to warehouses and threatened back in my undercover days."

Mycroft couldn't help but smile a bit: he met so few people who cared, who were passionate about their job, or duty.  Pity the man was married, but it would never be possible in any event- not with him involved with his brother’s life.

He wrote to Sebastian about his brother finally finding a reason to get clean- not what the reason was of course, just that he had found something to aim for, as opposed to just rebel against.

Sebastian wrote back after a few months: first with an apology for having been out of touch, and then with  sincere happiness that something was going well in his life…

… and as was no surprise to Mycroft, Sebastian explained  that he would love to see him, but only as a friend, since his new boyfriend was apparently the possessive sort.

Mycroft of course agreed.

It was perhaps a bit sad for himself, but… he was happy that Sebastian had found someone.  Frankly he wasn't certain Tiger was exactly the settle down sort, but everyone deserves a chance to be happy, whatever form it took… and… well… neither of them were young anymore.

…

It was close to the end of the year when Tiger surprised him with an invitation to dinner- the same restaurant they had met at before.

Sebastian… looked much better than he had in some time: his clothing suited him better, and he looked- he looked happier.

“Your new boyfriend must treat you well.” Mycroft smiled, “Not your usual clothing, but it suits your lines.”

Tiger laughed, “He’s as much of a clothes horse at heart as you are!” Sebastian lowered his voice and continued, “He has to dress down a lot for his work, so i think he’s taking out his frustrated clothing sense on me.”

“I can understand that,” Mycroft nodded, “I take it you were correct?”

“Essentially..” Sebastian then changed the subject to more banal topics.

After they had eaten some, Sebastian sighed, “I don't suppose you still have access to one of those safe houses?”

“Yes. in fact i cleared the use of one for the week, in case you needed someplace to stay… i do not expect to-”

“Nothing like that, but… i like spending time with you, and some things i don't like discussing out and about.”

It was odd to walk into a place with Tiger and know… nothing was going to happen.  But still…

“Although i certainly will miss, ah, other things…” Mycroft tried not to blush, “I do not have many friends that are not involved in my family or work- it’s good to talk to you.”

“Likewise… well except for the family… how is my sister?”

“You do understand i don’t deal with her myself much at all, and she has no idea why she had the opportunity for the job?” when Tiger nodded he went on, “She is very quiet and a bit shy around most people, but my PA has been rather firmly taking her in hand… and she seemed to be coming out of her shell some.  I suspect a great deal of that was getting her own place to live.”

“Getting away from our father would be a big help.” Sebastian nodded, “Thank you.  You’re brother is still sober?”

“Amazingly, yes. I think its the longest he’s ever been clean. I hold no illusions that it will not be an ongoing struggle, but… it's a relief that he’s really trying.”

“That’s good…”  Sebastian sighed, “you asked about my boyfriend…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how much pull he actually has, how high up he actually is- even if i did  i wouldn't tell you- but… no, he wasn't a minion. He dresses down to play the part and to do information gathering for the group- being my liaison was also… well… vetting me and my team.”

“I expect that would be needed.” Mycroft nodded, “If the government hired you and your group on a long term contract you would have a handler assigned.”

“Exactly: he’s my handler, and… i think he has to have some serious pull or he wouldn't be able to get involved with me…”

“People do things whether or not they should.” Mycroft smiled, “Is he treating you well? It is… often difficult to be involved with a work colleague, the risks are…”

“I know. We kind of talked about it.  He’s… he’s infuriating, insufferable, smart as hell, changeable, a fantastic actor, and…” Sebastian smiled tiredly, “Reminds me of you if  you cut loose a bit more, only… well a lot more aggressive in bed.”

“Ah… uh… well, i don't think…” Mycroft sighed, “Hopefully i wasn't too dull for you?”

“You were never DULL!” Tiger sat forward and grabbed his hand, “Never that!  It's just a different style. You know i … well i don't think most of your lovers left bite marks on you, not from the way you reacted…”

“Ah, no… you are quite the tiger when you want to be…”

“Well, ever heard the adage about small dogs?”

“He’s small?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow and tried not to smirk.

“Hey! he’s not…” Sebastian hit him with a napkin. “He doesn't happen to have  either of our magnificent height advantages, no.”

Mycroft couldn't help but tease, “or girth?”

Sebastian tried to  be angry- you could see it- and then fell over laughing. “Have we had THAT much to drink?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Well,” Sebastian smirked,  “he carries a smaller blade than you do- in both senses: he’s a knife man by preference- but he knows how to use it.”

Mycroft made apologetic noises and gestured for him to go on.

“I meant he has the ‘I’m not naturally bigger and stronger than everyone, so i make it up in aggression’ thing that you see with small dogs.”

Mycroft tilted his head, “be careful, insecurity can be a problematic trait in such cases.”

“It isn't with work, but yeah… i think it is with relationships a bit… but…” Sebastian shrugged, “None of us are in a situation where trust is easily come by, are we.”

“No. not at all.” Mycroft  had to admit.

“I’d love to introduce you two someday, but from a security standpoint it would be a bad idea.”

...

They talked a bit more until Mycroft’s pager went off and he had to go.

“Just like old times!” Tiger laughed.

“Indeed.” Mycroft admitted. “The flat is yours for the week if you want it, let me know if we can get back together…”

“I sort of want to see London, so many things change so fast… and then I’ll be working, i think: doing a security evaluation for a client.”

Mycroft gave him a hug and went off to deal with the latest nonsense.


	10. 2009 through 2010 a personal interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very personal interest.  
> Canon season 1

Mycroft had to admit that some of the contacts he'd inherited or acquired were quite good…

One in particular: Moriarty, a contractor who arranged solutions for problems that the government couldn't afford to handle directly.

Uncle Rudy had dealt with him-which is how Mycroft first dealt with him- and many of the other Ultra clearance individuals contracted with him as well. After Mycroft got into Crescent's  records it turned out that Crescent had been making FAR more use of the man.

...assuming it wasn't just a code name for a group.

Mycroft rather thought it was one man at the core of it; the style was a bit consistent.

…

 

Mycroft needed some people removed and was about to simply hire Moriarty to do it when he considered…

Sherlock. _He would be better able to stay clean if there were interesting murders? Perhaps...perhaps he could leverage business removals into a way to keep his brother busy?_

Some of the people who needed to be removed were in London…or near it.

Mycroft sent a detailed  request to Moriarty, along with notes of several "off limits" people and allowable collateral damage.  

He had a reply very soon: "interesting! Far more interesting than any of your usual work...if you want this done right i will need a better understanding of the job"

Mycroft considered: _probably they would_.  He explained that one of the off limits people was a 'consulting detective' and that there was a secondary goal of keeping him busy.  After a moment Mycroft reluctantly added, "He is remarkably good at it when sober."

"Why Iceman, this sounds personal. Did you know you're the only one of the lot of you that hadn't asked me for anything personal yet?"

 _The others had? Oh dear…_ Mycroft resolved to investigate that immediately.

"Yes, it is somewhat personal. The detective has an incentive to remain clean as long as there are interesting cases to solve. They are not to be harmed...or encouraged to use drugs in any way."

"Same deal as with the others, Antarctica: you cover for me and my people as needed, keep your cameras off, and I'll  arrange a few disposable pawns to get caught...this should be FUN! "

A few minutes later Mycroft received another text. "I think i like you best, Iceman, at least your personal requests aren't as questionable as the others-do spit on Crescent's grave for me when you get a chance. Ta!"

Mycroft spent a great deal of time worrying about that, but the Korean issue took up so much of his time…

…

The cases-and not all of them were arranged- proved to be enough to keep Sherlock's interest,  but his landlord threw him out over some less pleasant experiments.

Mycroft, of course, found him a secure flat...which he turned down.

Mycroft looked longingly at the scotch and settled for a digestif.

Then Sherlock prepared to move in with that lunatic drug boss's widow! I mean yes, he had done the world a courtesy getting rid of her husband...and…

 _God_ , Mycroft put his head in his hands, _why did he have to move into a flat owned by the widow of one of his former suppliers? Why?_

Mycroft did his best to discourage it but... _oh God he found a room share?_

Mycroft  got the information about the man from Dr. Hooper and ordered a priority look up on one Doctor John Watson, late of Afghanistan.

 _...nonononono!_ The man's therapist had him listed as traumatized by the war, reactive, and PTSD… Sherlock aggravated CALM people!

Mycroft had him picked up at the earliest possible opportunity…

_Exactly how incompetent was his therapist?_

First of all the man wasn't traumatized in any typical way by the war, he was traumatized by being returned to civilian life! In addition he clearly had anger issues, but seemed to be an adrenaline addict of the highest order...this was a doctor? Who had_chosen_ to serve as a medic- to be in the front lines?

 _God help the world if he ever met Tiger_.

He also told Mycroft very firmly to take his money and shove it- didn't seem at all concerned about the guards…

Mycroft resolved to keep an eye on the man-it could get quite explosive with Sherlock's propensity to aggravate people.

…

Instead everything else blew up, literally.

Mycroft texted Moriarty immediately upon getting back from checking on his brother: “Did you HAVE to risk a public catastrophe?!”

“What? It was perfectly safe- not even a scratch on the man, right?”

“Luck!”

“Carefully planned and observed demolitions! This is my business Antarctica, and  I’m very very good at it, besides, i have some personal reasons to play with this one.”

 _What_ ? “I was very firm in my requirements…” Mycroft frowned at the text. _HE had personal reasons to play with this one? What?_

_..._

It escalated.

Sherlock refused to tell him anything.

Moriarty used one of the targets in  the games, and had her shot under a pretense that she was describing his voice.  Likely no one would look twice at her, being lost among the other bomb vest victims, so it worked… but… unfortunately Sherlock and his associates took the death of a ‘harmless blind woman’ very hard.

Mycroft could scarcely inform them that while she was blind, she was not harmless and was, in fact, an enemy of Britain.

And by the time he found out about the shoes, the SHOES! Carl Powers missing trainers! It was even worse.

The shoes meant Moriarty or one of his senior men was personally and intimately connected with a murder that Sherlock had solved…

_I had not believed him- no one had._

Mycroft tried to talk to Sherlock about it but he was entirely uninterested…

until Sherlock called from that self-same swimming pool… because Doctor John Watson had been threatened.

And he- or someone claiming to be Moriarty at least- had been working at St. Bart’s.when one of the other targets died in the hospital after surgery.

...

When Mycroft finally settled his nerves he texted: “I TOLD you not to endanger him!”

“Touchy, aren't you? He was never in danger.”

“Stay away from him… far far away.  How were you involved in Carl Powers murder?”

“Tsk! Honestly?  I fulfill your every wish, keep darling Sherlock running all over London, AND get rid of all of your targets  completely without suspicion, and you’re yelling about it? I didn't even bill you for all of my expenses! Touchy, touchy, touchy.  I’ll talk to you later… Mycroft Holmes.”

Mycroft left work early and had a stiff drink.

…

It was something of a relief that Tiger left him a message: In London, can we meet?

Mycroft arranged to meet him at the Diogenes, after telling him the rules.

He was shown in to the Strangers’ Room: he looked tired, and unhappy.

Mycroft escorted him to a chair, “Whatever is wrong? Oh dear- your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian sighed. “Just wrapped up a job for the group and…”

“If he cheated on you when you were away i assure you i can have him made utterly miserable.” Mycroft  poured him a drink.

“He… well, he didn't ‘cheat’ per se, but he’s hardly paying attention to me except for work, and he’s been all but drooling over this…” he hesitated, “call him an old flame.”

“Hmm… has…” Mycroft considered, “He was rather insecure on personal issues?”

“Very.” Sebastian nodded, “and jealous as hell. Which is what makes this worse- if i acted like this? If i did half of what he’s doing? He’d either kill the man or me.” Tiger took a long drink and considered, “both- both is a thing.”

Mycroft put himself into analysis mode, “There are several possibilities- humans are illogical and unreasonable, you know.”

“Yeah, we are.” Tiger smiled that crooked smile at him and Mycroft’s heart felt like it stuttered.

“As much as… as much as i might selfishly  hope that he is, in fact, a cheating bastard who you will shortly be rid of… let me point out some common other options.”

Tiger ducked his head and a faint color appeared on his cheeks, “i miss you too, but… ok what other options?”

“First of all, if he is insecure enough on personal matters he may simply be … bolstering his ego by the fact that an old flame still finds him attractive.”

“Well… yes, probably he is in any case- he has a… as i said, he has to play the minion, so most people don't pay attention to him.”

“Attention can be quite a head turning experience.” Mycroft pointed out. “There is also the idea that this could be work… and he simply doesn't think about the effect on you- assuming you would understand....” Mycroft trailed off as he saw the realization hit.

“Oh hell…” Tiger covered his face with his hand, “It… was work related- the reason he was dealing with him: you think maybe he’s just…?”

“I doubt it is ‘just’ anything, Sebastian.” Mycroft patted his hand, “Likely he had to deal with an old lover, found himself slipping into old behavior to deal with him, and flattered over the attention.” Mycroft sighed and sipped his drink, “I would be flattered if any of my old liaisons showed any attraction these days- even if i knew it was a disaster in the making i would still be flattered; it may affect him the same way.”

“And he has to keep up the  act because its work anyway…” Sebastian sighed, “And he’s a bit of a self-absorbed twat sometimes… ok, what should i do?”

“I suggest you sit down with him away from anything breakable and  be plain: it worked last time, didn't it? “

“Yeah,” Sebastian smiled at him, “thank you again.”

“He also may have been trying to make you jealous, you know, if he is that insecure.”

Tiger blinked at him rapidly, “oh… oh! You think?”

“People are illogical and often act in ways that are not in their best interests.” Mycroft nodded firmly. “I strongly suggest you sit him down, explain that you feel hurt, jealous, and… that you are beginning to wonder if he is thinking of leaving you, but that you DO understand it may not be his intent: ask him to think about the fact that his ‘work flirting’ can easily be misunderstood by you if he doesn't TALK to you about it.”

“Thank you again… and… one of these days i have to introduce you two.”

“Does he even know about me?”

“He knows i have a friend, who i am not sleeping with anymore because we are in a monogamous relationship, that i met at the redhead’s party back in the old days… and we’ve kept in touch.”

“And how does he take that?”

“He gets insecure and possessive and… i bet he is trying to make me jealous! But i don't go flirt with you in front of him- or at all.”

“You flirt a bit by breathing, Tiger.” Mycroft pointed it out  gently, “You are a good looking man, and you smile at people- me especially- in a way that… well lets just say if i were a less rational man, and i knew you less well, i MIGHT think you were flirting.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped open, “You’re kidding?”

“No.” Mycroft smiled, “You are a devastatingly sexy man, and i am certain even those less observant than i must notice you a great deal: I would expect that he is constantly jealous given his insecurities.”

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back in the chair. “And then he has to deal with an old flame and… aw hell.”

“As i said, people are horribly illogical about matters of caring- or sex; put both together?”

“I love you dearly, Michael, and i hope you understand that.” Sebastian put his glass down and kissed Mycroft on the forehead.

Mycroft stood to show him out, “I hope for your sake that you can… work this out.  If you can’t? I am once again single.”

Tiger cocked his  head, “how can a man as attractive and smart as you are be single so much!”

Mycroft felt himself blushing again- something that these days only happened around Tiger. “I don't get out much, my work you know, and honestly most of the people i deal with are idiots.”

“Are any of them sexy idiots?! You have to cut loose a bit!”

“Alas, the only sexy idiots i meet are either already involved with someone else, or… otherwise not available.”

“Any non-idiots?”

“a handful, most of them married or otherwise unavailable as well.”

“Maybe i should introduce you to my boyfriend!” Sebastian shook his head, “Not like i’m exactly averse to a poly arrangement…”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Given his insecurity and jealousy do you think right now is a good time to even hint at that?”

“Ah… no.”

Mycroft kissed him gently, “go try to settle things: if he’s an idiot and doesn't know what he’s got i will cheerfully take advantage of his folly; if you do settle matters?  Then bring up the possibility of more people in a relationship AFTER you have resolved the issues between you- thoroughly resolved."

Sebastian ducked his head again and smiled up  through his eyelashes, “thank you again.”

“And never let him see you look like THAT at anyone else!” Mycroft swatted him, “you give a person very bad ideas.”

“I do?”

“Yes you do!”

“Oh… ah...hmm. I had no idea.”

“Perhaps he thinks YOU’VE been flirting with other people and this is his response?”

Sebastian sighed, “God… people really are idiots, aren’t they.”

“Yes,” Mycroft nodded, “Now go deal with him before i decide to be an idiot myself.”

Sebastian brought Mycroft’s hand up to his lips, “thank you.  Now you go find someone that is enough of a not-idiot to recognize an intelligent sexy ginger-brunet when they see one.”

Mycroft showed him out and spent a bit of time pulling himself together before going back to work.


	11. It's a Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the pool.... to interrogation... with a slight detour by way of Irene Adler

Things settled- as much as they ever settled in Mycroft’s life- for a while…

It was too good to last.

Irene Adler had blackmail on several people, one of them far too close to the crown, and he’d been fool enough to pull Sherlock into it.

It was a trap, of course.  

An obvious mcguffin- the code was four digits and so very obvious- but in the meantime everything else was a disaster: Sherlock was drugged by that woman, and began to spiral back into addiction, numerous people had issues ‘suddenly’ come up and hit them at their weakest, and of course politics chose that  time to require his full attention as well…

By the time the dust cleared from that it was too late to do anything about the banking scandal, the  inadvisable trade negotiation, or the disappearance of several million euros that all happened while Irene Adleer was dramatically distracting everyone.

… Mycroft began slowly repairing the damage, and trying to build up better defenses to prevent a recurrence… He’d almost gotten things back under control…

almost.

And then Intelligence intercept revealed Moriarty was involved in a planned terror attack on London.  Mycroft warned him, but Moriarty continued dealing with them- endangering everyone. Mycroft took the opportunity to have him picked up to be dealt with, now that he had a description from Sherlock and the hospital… assuming it was the real Moriarty and not an agent.

It was.

The man’s first  words after being put through intake were; “I will only talk to Mycroft Holmes, and i have fail safes you cannot afford to trigger.”

They didn't believe him… until the first one went off and he reiterated his demand to speak to Mycroft Holmes- and only Mycroft Holmes

...

Mycroft hadn't been home in...days? Sherlock had stolen his access codes-again- to Baskerville of all places!  While he had been trying, and failing, to get anywhere with Moriarty.

They needed the information Moriarty had-needed it desperately-and he knew it.  By this point it was obvious to Mycroft that he was playing them all…he had WANTED to be picked up-allowed it- and now it was obvious why: he wanted to get to Mycroft directly and had taken the only route they couldn't stop.  He wanted information on Sherlock, and leverage on Mycroft himself . The sensible thing would be to have him quickly and quietly shot, but they couldn't do more than threaten and pressure, not with his failsafes in place…

Mycroft nearly fell asleep in the car on the way home, and struggled to put a good face on for his security people.  He walked into the dark house and headed toward the kitchen-he couldn't afford to drink anything, but he had a few chocolates…

The knife was at his throat before he knew anyone was in the house.

His training kicked in immediately-they were not here to kill him but to capture, or he would be bleeding out already. He triggered his panic alarm and held still waiting for a better opportunity; when his attacker shifted position to direct his motion he dropped to the floor-the knife must have been razor sharp;he felt it touch his jaw as he twisted and let gravity take him down- a moment later there was a trickle of warm: blood.

Unfortunately his assailant was very good: he followed him down and Mycroft ended up with a knee in his back and the blade along his jugular.

Another man stepped out of hiding, whisper quiet, and they coordinated without a word.

Mycroft forced himself to calm, analyze:the faint sounds and the way they coordinated said there were more men- at least one more- and when his arms were zip tied behind his back he felt a holstered gun brush his ribs.

He was hauled to his feet by the man behind him-the blade steady, far too close to his throat. The man in front of him was in full tactical gear, including a face cover and night vision goggles. His voice was distorted as he laughed, "looks like he nicked himself shaving!" And then, "behave yourself or you bleed out on these likely stolen rugs of yours."

Mycroft steeled himself and began to wall himself off to endure whatever they had in mind for him. "you will get no ransom for me, and I will not answer any questions: get on with it." 

The man behind him stiffened suddenly. Mycroft felt the blade move away and he was spun in place to face his assailant-the scene commander unless he missed his guess. The man held his arm firmly still, but brought what had been his knife hand up and brushed it across his face…

"Bring the lights up." The man growled through the mask.

Mycroft heard one man utter a confused, "sir?" But one of them brought the lights up slowly.

His assailant traced his cheek gently, oddly, with a fingertip. "Michael?"

Mycroft's analytical mind snapped build and height and skill into place. "Tiger? Sebastian?" He couldn't manage more than a whisper.

"What?...sir?" One of the men, sounding confused started protesting as his assailant pulled off his face mask and goggles.

_ Tiger. _

Mycroft couldn't do anything but stare at him-his worried eyes staring back, and then suddenly…

"Parker! Get this treated now! Cut him loose, we have the wrong target!"

Mycroft felt someone tug at his wrists, and the sound of heavy plastic being snipped.

"Michael? Are...oh God i hurt you?!"

For some reason it was very difficult to make his throat work. " just...just a nick...but...could i possibly sit down…"

Mycroft blinked and he was being carried to the sofa. The other men had confused body language: there were three others that he saw, one of whom seemed to be Parker, who was coming up with a medical bag…

"Parker...was...your medic?"

Tiger was ordering someone to treat for shock… and then more gently, "not officially,  but he's good at it."

"Oh...uh…" his mind seemed to be slipping tracks- having difficulty reintegrating with his body and the changed situation…" there's…  not much food in the house...i haven't been home much."

"Yeah, I saw...you've lost weight, too." Sebastian was pulling his shoes off and putting his feet up as Parker  treated the cut on his jaw.

"Sir?" The man who had been speaking before- the one who had jeered about his rugs- was saying, "I think an explanation?"

"Patrick? Meet your Uncle Mike." Sebastian was wincing and running a hand through his hair.

"What?!"

"Uncle...ah?" Mycroft looked the man over as he pulled off the mask. "Oh yes, Sean Patrick O'Day: you were merely being transferred...not executed…"

"You? But…"

Sebastian looked around at everyone, "Obviously our information was...confused, and WE NEVER DID ANYTHING, right?"

Mycroft saw firm nods  around.

"Michael and i need to talk...shit…"

"If...you didn't harm the security did you?"

"No, just looped cameras and cut your alarms."

"Then… let me put you in the system as extra guards...and...someone can go get take-out and if any of them can be trusted to make a decent cup…" Mycroft tried to sit up and got told firmly by Parker to lie back down until his pulse settled.

"You...Michael i am so sorry!" Sebastian looked- actually he looked awful, like he hadn't slept or eaten well.

"No good ever came of trying to settle this on an empty stomach or an adrenaline let down without tea. There is both tea and coffee in the kitchen, and a few chocolates. Security approved  take-out menus are in the top left drawer. I will call my security head in once you all...look as much as possible like extra covert security and not a forcible extraction team."

Mycroft let Patrick settle him on the sofa with the blanket and called in the cancellation of the panic alarm while he watched Sebastian turn a mercenary extraction team into a group of passable SIS guards.

He pulled himself together enough to introduce Sebastian to his shift security head, and   sat quietly with his tea, watching Tiger, who in turn kept looking at him in mixed horror and confusion.

Mycroft had the impression that his disastrous day- week, month- was about to get worse.


	12. missed perceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it was obvious in hindsight...  
> Mycroft and Sebastian both bemoan missed clues, and an agreement is made

“You work for Moriarty.” Mycroft sighed and looked down at his tea. “Of course… I should have realized.”

“I’m… uh… rather personally involved with Moriarty.” Sebastian said quietly, “the men all suspect that, of course, but I never confirmed any of the rumors.”.

They were sitting  on the sofa after his security had been placated, and Sebastian had put most of his men on guard duty- except for two who were out getting food.

Mycroft rubbed at his eyes, “Your insecure jealous boyfriend who dresses like a minion most of the time- or a hospital I.T. fellow- of course:  I feel like quite the fool.”

“You… YOU are Mycroft Holmes, the Iceman himself.” Sebastian  shook his head, “No, no way I could ever have put that together- the way he described you… the only thing that sounded like YOU was the scary smart part.”

“I suppose I shouldn't ask how he described me.”

“Frighteningly smart, dull, all regulations and routine, all pursed lips and disaproval and prissy: the kind of guy who either never took his clothes off completely to have sex, or was into some really kinky shit after hours.” Sebastian smiled weakly, “Not the sweet red-headed rebel I know.”

“I expect he mostly saw me trying to deal with Sherlock- oh God… of course… you were the sniper at the pool, and the one who shot the supposed witness?”

Sebastian moaned and put his head in his hands, “Your brother with the addiction problems? Sherlock… how did i not SEE it!”

Mycroft closed his eyes against the oncoming migraine, “Your boyfriend was dealing with work, and flirting  with ‘sort of an old flame’... you meant my brother.”

“Yeah.”

They sat there quietly until Tiger’s men came back with food, and then Mycroft- Uncle Mike- was formally introduced to his team.

“Would that we had finally met under better circumstances.” Mycroft said  as they sat down to dinner, or breakfast, or whatever it was. “Of course Sebastian and I have known each other for years.”

“Uncle Mike,” one of the men Mycroft hadn't been involved with retrieving was speaking in a disbelieving tone to Sebastian, “Your Michael, our Uncle Mike, is Mycroft Holmes?!”

“Apparently.” Sebastian just groaned.

“Yes.” Mycroft sighed, “And yes i knew who Tiger was, of course, and we kept in touch, but no i didn't know who had your contracts- I rather tried to not look, if you understand.”

“Like a ruddy soap opera!” Patrick muttered, “and uh… sorry about… I didn't know who you were…”

“Quite.” Mycroft nodded, “I suggest we simply chalk it all up to  the fog of war and move on.” he rubbed at his eyes again, “I was exhausted coming home, and the adrenaline is wearing off...i can either get a bit of rest before we try to resolve this, or I can take a stimulant…”

Sebastian bit his lip, “Is...Mister Moriarty going to be hurt by any delay?”

“He isn't hurt at all, in fact i think he’s quite enjoying himself making us all dance to his tune.” Mycroft  could see it all: Sebastian frantic over his lover being picked up, thinking to take ‘Mycroft Holmes’ hostage and force an exchange… “HE wanted us to pick him up- he wanted to get to me in person and he found the one way he could force me to talk to him.”

“He wanted…” Sebastian stared at him- for that matter the others within earshot were staring at him.

“He put himself quite deliberately as bait, after several warnings, and was picked up… and immediately demanded to speak to me, and only to me- his failsafes were quite enough to force my hand.” Mycroft closed his eyes, just for a moment and then Sebastian was keeping him from falling into his dinner.

“Right… He’s not going to suffer for you getting a bit of a rest, Michael, so lets… we put you through a lot, and as you said the adrenaline let down…”

“I don’t…” Mycroft tried to protest and then just sighed, “try not to disturb my organization or … make a mess, please, gentlemen? “

Everyone made noises of assent and Sebastian helped him get  to his bedroom.

“I finally get to see your bedroom…” Sebastian smiled at him rather wearily, “not the circumstances I might have thought.

“Not any circumstance I imagined…” he took a pill and brushed his teeth. Sebastian helped him get changed for bed- knowing from their shared past how important it was for his clothes to be hung up properly and aired out- and Mycroft was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

He didn't sleep well, nightmares and the uncomfortable knowledge of people in his home, but he did sleep.  He dressed and came down to find a shaved and rested Sebastian sitting with a coffee cup going over plans with one of his men… and Mycroft’s morning security head, Muhammed.

“Good morning.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Sebastian.

“Good Morning, Mister Holmes,” Sebastian had a polite business voice on- Mycroft was not certain if he actually heard the amused tone and saw a flicker of a rakish grin, or just imagined it- “The test of your security last night, however poorly timed it turned out to be, did show some serious issues that need to be addressed, so i was going over things with your morning detail.”

“Ah… quite correct, do carry on.” Mycroft nodded and headed for the kitchen to find his breakfast plated and waiting. He went to his home office and worked on matters  as he could until the assistant head of the security detail, Oliver, came to get him; then they went over the proposed changes and estimated time to implementation.

Once his security, and Sebastian’s men, had stepped out  to get to work Mycroft permitted himself to smile at Sebastian again, “I was remembering the assassin in my room…”

“So was I,” Sebastian admitted, “Did you ever get rid of that… which ambassador was it?”

“The Bolivian ambassador, and no… although he was replaced later by his own government.” Mycroft hesitated and then gave in to his sentimental impulse and touched Sebastian’s face gently, “I… admit my opinion on Moriarty is biased in the extreme, but… is he good to you?”

“Yeah, for an insecure jealous lunatic,” Tiger leaned into his hand for a moment and then pulled away, “God i missed you, but in hindsight I am thinking of all the times I almost introduced you two…”

“Who knows, it might have been better, or it could have been a disaster.” 

They sat down together and Mycroft sighed, “I admit I don't see any trace of the insecurity- but he is remarkably hard to read. He is vicious, more than slightly unbalanced, unfortunately brilliant, and  so entangled in top secret governmental matters that it beggars description.”

“You're not wrong?  He is vicious- sometimes- and he is more than a bit unbalanced sometimes...and he’s so far over my head on brilliance…” Sebastian shook his head. “Like you: I knew you had power, i knew you worked in intelligence, i had all the pieces… how did it never once cross my mind that you were… you were ‘Bloody Damn Holmes’ the Iceman…”

“Because you knew me,” Mycroft said quietly, “The same way I couldn't truly see you as a security threat, the sadistic killer who needed to be removed- for all the perfectly correct reasons- or  come to the obvious conclusion that it was your team, and you, carrying out Moriarty’s work.”

Sebastian chewed on his lip and then asked quietly, “He’s alright? Really?”

“Given his failsafes nothing that put him at risk was possible.” Mycroft looked at him  and considered- _put it in formal briefing terms; he had worked with interrogation after all_.  “Colonel? Interrogation briefing.” he saw Sebastian shift  to a slightly more professional stance and view, “A dangerous head of a mercenary group- who has worked for terrorists and the government before and knows FAR too much- was taken in after  repeated warnings about his involvement in a plot against Britain.”

Colonel Moran nodded unhappily.

“He immediately demanded to speak to me, and only me, and proved that he had failsafes that we could not afford to trigger.  In addition to not being able to do any HARM to the man, we also have a time limit of how long we can keep him.”

“Difficult…”

“We tried the more…  we tried extraordinary means, with care-”

“Waterboarding?”

“Attempted once: he went  completely unconscious the moment we began and as a result we lost several days to him being hospitalized for inhaled water.  He didn't seem to care and I suspect strongly that he suborned a nurse.”

“Heh.” The professionalism  gave way to his usual crooked smile, “he would.”

“He informed us he was allergic to the majority of interrogation drugs, and testing confirmed that.”

“He is… as far as I know.” Sebastian shrugged awkwardly, “he changes his story a lot on his background, so even if I wanted to I couldn't tell you what was true  or if it all was… but i got drilled on allergy response, so I suppose that was true.”

“Unless he managed to falsify medical results- which I would not put past him- that is quite true.” Mycroft rubbed his eyes again and muttered, “Could I impose on you to retrieve my migraine medication?”

“Where?”

Mycroft told him and waited… Sebastian came back holding the pills and injector with a very odd look on his face, “he… takes the same pills.”

“Does he?” Mycroft  took one immediately and hoped he would stave this off, “I had no idea.”

“And i think the same injectables… God you two…”

“I refuse to think about it at the moment.” Mycroft then groaned, “Oh, so THAT’s why the lights being on bothered him… not the time cues, the migraine trigger.  My interrogation team assumed he was faking it.”

“Lights… can bother him.” Sebastian admitted. “Artificial lights of some kinds anyway… he wears sunglasses- people think its to hide his eyes.”

Mycroft  sighed, “or that it is purely for effect, but instead its to avoid migraines… damn.”

“Well both can be a thing: he does a lot for effect.”

“He is running rings around our best interrogators, and frustrating me half to death, and he gets migraines… I confess to being even more impressed with the man, and wishing even more fervently that we could just have him shot.”

Sebastian winced, “please don't.”

Mycroft pulled himself  together and forced himself to try to think tactically. “I can… give him what he wants- I was on the verge of having to do so anyway- which is information about my brother, and let him go… IF you will agree to try to distract him away from my brother, and report to me  if he is taking actions against him… or Britain, if possible.”

Sebastian considered, “If I agree, and especially if I hand you information- and I don't always know what he’s doing unless I'm involved: he compartmentalizes everything- then you will do everything in your power to not hurt him.”

Mycroft rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, “Agreed.”

Sebastian leaned forward and kissed him gently, “agreed, then, and thank you.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Canon suicide, heavy angst, grief

Mycroft watched Moriarty on the CCTV monitors  until he was picked up and whisked out of London.  He found it next to impossible to spot any evidence of insecurity in the man, although if it was mostly in personal relationships it might simply not BE there under these conditions.  Moriarty had made his usual innuendos as he left, as he had whenever he dealt with Mycroft. His flirtations were harder to deal with, now that Mycroft knew he was dealing with… well his ex’s new partner after a fashion.

He buried himself in work.  

Sherlock, rather predictably  started having issues again- using again: he was more famous now and there were some cases, but none with the challenging nature of Moriarty’s work… Mycroft began trying to hand him some of the more interesting MI6 matters, but… well… past history… he didn't want to let ‘Mycroft control him’ and …  _ sigh _ . At least Watson seemed to be of some assistance, and oddly so was his landlady…

Mycroft got messages from Tiger: he sounded happy and… things were going well with his relationships- or improving anyway- and he indicated that he was managing to  keep Moriarty distracted away from Sherlock, but he was doing SOMETHING involving Britain…

Mycroft braced for it as best as he could in between international disasters.

And then Moriarty was back, without warning, publicly! Publicly breaking in after the crown jewels!

It was another attempt to get to Mycroft, he supposed, so  rather than deal with it at all he permitted it to go to the mundane courts- let the man play his part to the police and the judge and leave my poor interrogators alone.  Mycroft expected it to be a simple case, and to have him off on a mental illness charge what else could you call sitting in the crown jewels waiting to be arrested?  

He got the message from Sebastian to meet and asked if they could meet at his club- the Diogenes was far quieter and… the temptation far less.

…

“Why here? And what’s with this …. Library club?” Sebastian asked after he was shown into the stranger’s room.

“It is most certainly not a library club,,” Mycroft couldn't help but smile as he escorted Sebastian to a chair, “you look… much better than when I saw you last.”

“Not having my- my boss in interrogation helps: he called me a silly idiot when I admitted I had ‘almost’ gone after you to break him out.”

“ I expect so, given that he wanted to be there,” Mycroft poured him a drink, “did you know about this crown jewels nonsense?”

“Not until it was too late… you…” he ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “he’s going to drag Sherlock into this you know- that's why he did this.”

“What?” Mycroft stared at him, “Sherlock wasn't involved- isn't involved!”

“He is now, they’re calling him in to testify about Moriarty.”

Mycroft sat back, “That… will be a disaster.”

“Will it? Jim thinks it will be funny, so i assume it will be bad…”

“You haven't MET my brother.” Mycroft poured a double into his own glass, “Good God… if he’s not very much on his best behavior he’ll be in for contempt of court.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Mycroft muttered.

“Well… ah… I wanted to give you a heads up to try to keep him out of it-”

“I can’t.” Mycroft sighed into his drink, “But thank you.”

“Uh… Jim’s been doing a lot of work on some of his fake identities… so… maybe after this he plans on going dark for a bit?”

“We can only hope.”

…

Mycroft should never have permitted that flicker of hope.

...

Sebastian was sent away on assignment over his protests while Moriarty played at being Richard Brook: it was a very good identity, really.  Mycroft looked at the paper trail, the small parts and commercials for the past years… oh the name had been changed- it hadn't been Richard Brook when he was doing those commercials- but proving that he wasn't seriously a well established small time actor was going to be tricky…

It would have been much easier if Sherlock would have just… shut up and stayed out of sight!  After all, it wouldn't take long to prove that Sherlock couldn't have created some of the problems he had solved…

But no, no of course not… he had to flee police…

By the time Sherlock came to his senses and answered some of Mycroft’s texts it was too late for any of the simple fixes.

Seastan was out of touch… he had promised to try not to harm Moriarty, but this was… this was too far- he would simply take him back into custody and… well this time they would be prepared for his failsafes.

Unfortunately there was a very high likelihood that Sherlock would have to fake his death: once he forced his brother to sit down and look at the MESS he had caused even he had to agree.

…

…

Moriarty… killed himself.

Mycroft had suspected that he would be the sort to  take his own life rather than lose, but… no he had not even once suspected…

_ Wouldn't he have… just believed he would be able to get out of this too? _

_ But no… apparently the man’s secret insecurities and… probable mental illness…  _

Good God, how was he going to tell Tiger.

…

When Sebastian came back to England it was as if thermite had hit butter.  Mycroft’s first clue was a pile of dead bodies in a warehouse- all members of Moriarty’s network by the evidence- then three members of MI5 that had been suspected of working with him, then one of his own office…

Mycroft hated legwork, but…

“Sebastian, stand down.” Mycroft stepped in between him and his target.

Tiger looked at him with dead eyes and the look of a man who hasn't slept, or bothered with anything but the barest necessities- just looked at him.

“I… I tried, Tiger; i was going to have him placed in custody- even then… but he took his own life.” Mycroft could hear his agents arresting the man behind him- from the grateful babbling he understood they were rescuing him.

“WHY?!” Sebastian howled at him; it was a broken desperate sound, “he sent me AWAY!”

“I don’t know… i wish i did…” Mycroft walked forward slowly, “I never could read the man, Sebastian; i don’t… I don’t know why- I could speculate but it won't… it won't answer anything.”

“You.. you didn’t… you didn’t do anything?”

“I was expecting many things, but not… not to have him kill himself- not then: we were prepared for a suicide risk when he was captured, but…” Mycroft shook his head, “I...I can let you listen to the recordings, there was a camera - not ideally placed…”

Sebastian grabbed him and twisted his jacket in his hands- Mycroft let him. “YOU… you didn’t… you didn't do this? None of your people did?”

“No.  However tempted i may have been to have the man shot, Sebastian, i was going to have him captured alive- i gave my word. No one expected his suicide- not me, not Sherlock… no one.”

Sebastian collapsed against him for a moment, shaking with tears he wouldn't shed: Mycroft wrapped an arm around him, “Come on… we’ll go to my house and…  try to figure it out.”

...

Sebastian didn't say anything.  He sat at the table and mechanically had the soup that Mycroft put in front of him.  Eventually he asked to see the recordings…

Mycroft let him listen to the recording from Sherlock… see the limited view they had from the one camera.

“Why…?  I don't…. Just why?”

Mycroft shook his head, “Perhaps those insecurities that I never saw? There could have been information he kept from you as well… I don't know: the pathologist says he may have had a brain tumor but with the damage from the shot… well....”

Sebastian braced himself and asked,“Where is his body?”

Mycroft spoke as gently as he could, “the… the body was not…  the damage to his face if nothing else...I had him cremated, after the autopsy: you… you may have his ashes, of course.”

Sebastian just nodded curled in on himself; wounded and grieving.

Mycroft gave him a sedative and put him to bed in the guest room.

This was worse- far worse- than Jim leaving him: Sebastian clearly felt that he had failed in some critical way- missed some clue that would have kept him alive.  Mycroft knew survivor’s guilt far too well- and that involved people who were killed by enemy acts. How do you protect a man from himself- you can’t, but Sebastian wouldn't see it.

Mycroft could all too easily predict Sebastian following Jim… trying to atone for something that he hadn't done- some imagined thing he could have done.

Mycroft sat up that night trying to find a solution- trying to save a man from himself and the last actions of Jim Moriarty.


	14. It certainly looked that way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is dying of guilt, depression and heartbreak... but is Moriarty alive after all?  
> TW suicide attempt (not graphic)

Sebastian barely made it home from his missions.  Mycroft had done his best to keep him busy, set him increasingly interesting tasks… he performed them by rote, with little interest in his own safety.  When he came home he occasionally showed flickers of life- mostly concern over Mycroft, as though Mycroft would leave him too- but otherwise… nothing.

Mycroft cursed his own ability to predict a path… Sebastian was dying, and one way or another would be gone- following after Moriarty. Gods curse the man to hell, if they hadn't already and if such a thing existed.

…

He’d intercepted the suicide attempt, mostly due to long years of practice at finding his brother. He had him dragged out of the safe house- one of Moriarty’s apparently- and taken directly to the hospital.  After spending a sleepless night by his bedside the doctors told him he would recover…

This time.

Unlike his brother this had been a deliberate attempt, not a gesture, not an accident, not a miscalculation of doses, or chasing a high…

When his brother called to check in- video conferencing this time- he couldn't hide it from him.

Sherlock stared at him through the video link and sat back, “i have no idea how to interpret this, brother of mine: you would have sent word if our parents were ill.”

“My… former lover tried to kill himself.” Mycroft admitted quietly, “again.”

Sherlock blinked, and blinked again, “what?”

“You heard me.”

“You...cared?! About this one?” he practically squeeked.

“I do not engage in CASUAL relationships, Sherlock!”

“I mean… you said… ex?  I… uh…”

“We… are very good friends, Sherlock: we haven't been lovers since he… became involved with someone else…”

Sherlock  tried to put a sympathetic expression on his face, but mostly looked bewildered.

Mycroft hadn’t intended to say anything but there was no one else he could talk to… “I … he was… he was going to be sent on a suicide mission, if not killed in prison, and i helped him… and… we couldn't see each other often.” Mycroft cursed the tremor in his voice, “Even after he found… someone else, he was someone I could talk to…”

“Good God.” Sherlock sat there blinking… “And… his… ex… broke up with him? And he took it that badly?  He isn't just going back to you?”

“I’ve kept him alive, barely… that’s… it's inevitable…” Mycroft felt himself beginning to cry and bit his lip. “I shall have to take your debrief later, Sherlock.”

“Ah… unfortunately, it’s urgent… ah…” he looked sincerely sorry, “very urgent: Moriarty may be alive.”

Mycroft froze. He stared at the video, stared in a mix of horror and hope, “Alive…?”

Sherlock frowned, “your reaction was… unexpected?”

“Never mind that! Give me the information immediately!”

Sherlock stared at him and slowly paled… “your friend...was… involved with.. Moriarty?!”

“Yes,” Mycroft said through gritted teeth, “he didn't know i was Mycroft Holmes until it was too late, and I didn't know he was involved with that viper… now give me the damned information- if it's true, I am going to find him and drag him to Sebastian’s bedside ... assuming I don’t give in to temptation and throttle him.”

…

Mycroft made Sebastian swear, on his sister’s well being, that he would absolutely not do anything even remotely dangerous to himself until Mycroft got back…. And then he called in his team and made THEM swear to stand rotating guard on him as well.

“I may have something to assist his recovery,” he told Patrick and Bertram, “but I do not dare to get his hopes up if I am in error.”

They both nodded grimly, “We can't watch him forever, but…”

“I shall be done with this business as quickly as possible… one way or another.”

…

Sherlock’s evidence was tenuous, but it was possible, and he felt like a FOOL for not having verified with Sherlock the condition of Moriarty’s body- his testimony was that the man’s face was intact, perfectly; where the autopsied body had a ruined face from the gunshot…

Once he knew to look, and put his full attention on it, he had been able to trace the man.  Mycroft had his personal guard, and a group of SIS pulled directly off of one of his covert missions for this- he didn't trust the information not to leak, and Sebastian’s life was at stake.

When they arrived on location Mycroft leashed his anger tightly, checked the tranquilizer guns and gas grenades for the last time, and sent in his team. Moriarty wasn’t allergic to any of these drugs… although when Mycroft was finished with him he might wish he was… _how DARE he do this to Sebastian? How DARE he?!_

It went smoothly: no information had had a chance to leak, and they had hit with precision and overwhelming force. His men dragged their target out for identification- it was Moriarty- and Mycroft nodded. “Clean up any traces, his men go to holding.”  He had Moriarty dragged aboard the plane and restrained, and headed back for London before the smoke had fully cleared in the building..

...

Moriarty woke up retching and clearly having a migraine- Mycroft had utterly no sympathy.  For the first time that he could recall he slapped a prisoner and enjoyed it.

“How COULD you?” Mycroft hissed as he pulled Moriarty’s head up by the hair, “You couldn't just do the decent thing and shoot him? You had to make him suffer?”

Moriarty looked stunned and bewildered- but of course that could be faked, or merely confusion at being caught. “Holmes? How?... why the hell?!”

“If I didn't need you alive and in one piece, Moriarty, I assure you I would make your stays in holding seem downright pleasant.”

Moriarty’s eyes were screwing shut in a way Mycroft recognized and he licked his lips and swallowed, “I know this may be hard to believe, Holmes, but i have NO idea what you’re going on about…”

Mycroft dropped his head and stalked over to his own bags.  He got out the migraine drugs- the injector- and stabbed the man perhaps a bit viciously with it.

“OW! What?”

“Migraine meds,” Mycroft snarled, “I need you coherent.”

“You found my meds…?” Moriartyy was looking blearily at him; even if the drug was instant- and it wasn't- a migraine made you a bit slow as Mycroft knew only too well.

“No, i gave you mine: Sebastian told me we used the same migraine medication.”

“...oh.” Moriarty’s voice was suddenly very quiet, and very small, and he stopped trying to hold his head up. “Of course he did.”

 _…? Wait.. something was very wrong with that…_ Mycroft stepped backward, “How do you even know we’ve met?”

Moriarty sighed, “Mags told me…. And after that it wasn't difficult to find evidence.”

Mycroft frowned, “Who…? Magnussen?! He works-”

“For himself, Holmes, you know that- and loves to get his hooks into important and powerful people.”

“True.” Mycroft agreed, and then frowned, “Never mind that: why did you do this to Sebastian?”

“Do what to who?” Moriarty shook his head and tried to look up at him, “Somewhere or another this isn't making sense.”

“It's been a struggle to keep Sebastian alive, and I left after pulling him through a deliberate overdose.”

Moriarty’s head came up fast and he stared shocked directly into Mycroft’s eyes, “What? Why?!”

Mycroft felt the pieces fall together with a nearly audible  ‘click’ and softened his voice, “because he loves you, and he blames himself for not seeing whatever was wrong…”

“...what?  But you two-”

“Were lovers, when we saw each other, and more importantly we were friends.” Mycroft sighed and walked away to get the keys.   When he came back he continued, “Of course once he had a… boyfriend… we were no longer lovers. His lover was apparently quite jealous and a bit insecure…”

Moriarty was staring at him in genuine confusion. Mycroft held up the key, “I am going to remove some of your restraints- the ankle cuff remains- and we are going to talk… I suspect you have a rather drastic misunderstanding of the situation.”

Moriarty didn't say anything as he took his arms down and helped him get his feet under him.  The ankle chain was long enough for him to drop into the seat and he did.

Mycroft sat down across from him. “Let me be concise: I met Sebastian at a party in 1996- just before he left for the military.”

“THAT long ago?!”

Mycroft continued as if he hadn't said anything. “We met infrequently, as our schedules permitted.  I knew who he was after not very long- it was almost impossible for me not to figure it out, but called him by his preferred nickname of Tiger- and he knew me as Michael. I continually tried to warn him that his… that he was at risk.” Mycroft took a deep breath, “And when he was arrested, and convicted, I allowed my personal interests to intervene, and assisted him… later I helped him get a few more of his men.”

“Uncle Mike,” Moriarty said bitterly, “Yes, i figured that out.”

“I never knew who he worked for-”

Moriarty snapped, “you most certainly did!”

“Until he broke into Mycroft Holmes’ house to kidnap him and force your release from interrogation.”

Moriarty stared at him… and then looked him over and back up at his eyes… and then very quietly, “he...did what?”

“His team went through my security as if it wasn't there, and had me restrained at knifepoint before… before I spoke, and the man behind me spun me around… Tiger had no idea I was Mycroft Holmes: I had no idea Sebastian was your lover…” Mycroft forgot his own rules about never taking his eyes off the man and closed his eyes tiredly, “it was a horrible, horrible situation.”

Very quietly, “he… wasn’t… working for you?”

“No.”

“Not… not even later?”

“I agreed to let you go, for his sake, if he would do his best to keep you away from Sherlock and out of British interests...it seemed to work for a while.”

“... until i found out about you…”

“You thought he was a spy?”

“... yeah.  The… evidence… communication, meetings… you’d spent the night together…”

“We’d BEEN lovers, Moriarty, before he had someone with whom he was exclusive: after that we never did more than talk- there are not many people I can talk to.  I did give him advice … in fact i’m the one who pointed out that if his prospective boyfriend was anything like i was, he might not have realized Sebastian was flirting.” 

Mycroft sighed, “and when Sebastian met me- after the pool it turned out- and told me his boyfriend had gotten involved with an ‘old flame’ and was ignoring him… I counseled him to sit you down and talk about it- although I confess that I did make it clear that if his lover was fool enough to let him go, I was single again.”

“You...didn’t know it was me?! Even after THAT?”

“How am I to take ‘doing business with an old flame and ignoring me- I am afraid he will leave me’ as having anything to do with Sherlock, snipers, and so on?  Likewise he didn't see any similarity between the man he knew- my personal life- and your description of, as he put it, ‘Mycroft Bloody Holmes- the Iceman’.”

Moriarty looked like someone who desperately wanted to believe him, and didn't quite. “His sister works for you!”

“No, he mentioned his sister and I offered- one older sibling to another- to try to get her away from his father.  She works in my… my department.”

“She lives with ANTHEA!”

“I told Anthea why the girl was skittish and quiet and she took her on as a project… did they finally move in together?” Mycroft blinked, “Originally they simply had flats in the same secure building… I did rather think they might be involved, but…” he looked back at Moriarty and shrugged, “If it isn't on fire its a software problem- i had my hands full: monitoring my PA’s social life wasn't on my radar.”

“He… he tried to kidnap you?”

“Yes: he would have succeeded in removing me from the premises if he was quick- the response time from the security was appalling: he… ah… helped fix that afterwards, since he was rather… upset.”

“He… he… wait… he tried to KILL himself?!” Moriarty sat forward and gripped the arms of the chair tightly enough to damage either the chair or his fingers.

“Which time?” Mycroft  growled at him. “He’s been doing a fine job of suicide by neglect, and not caring about his safety- if it werent for his concern for his men i expect several of the missions i sent him on would have ended him.”

“... you sent him on-”

“I had hoped that, like Sherlock, he could be distracted from his issues by work- he did rather love his work.” Mycroft sighed, “He went to a home that i presume you used- with your ashes- and overdosed.” Mycroft’s voice shook, “i have an unfortunate amount of practice with Sherlock- we got to him in time…. Barely.”

“With my…” he stared at Mycroft, “you gave him my ashes?”

“Naturally?”

“He’s not…”  Moriarty’s voice shook slightly, and Mycroft managed to see through the facade to _wonder and hope_? “He… actually…?”

“Your death is killing him.  He feels guilty for missing whatever clues he should have seen, and… has lost any interest in staying alive.”

Moriarty looked at him oddly, “And you love him.”

“Unfortunately.”

“But you aren't…?”

“If you did not know that Sebastian Moran’s defining characteristic is loyalty, Moriarty,” Mycroft snorted at him, “you don't know the man.  I already know you don't deserve him.”

Moriarty was quiet for a few moments. “Where are we? Other than in a plane.”

“Three hours from London at this point, and then i am shoving you in a car and taking you to my house, where i have Sebastian under suicide watch by his men.” Mycroft  shuddered, “he promised he would not do anything until my return, but…”

“I thought… I thought he was your agent… that he’d… seduced me for you.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “he did say you were insecure, and I told him I couldn't see it in Moriarty… you are appallingly hard to read.” then Mycroft considered, really considered, and asked, “If you thought that, why didn't you kill him?”

“... i… thought about it… but…” his voice settled slowly into a whisper. “I couldn’t do it.”

“... you love him?”

“Enough that even though i knew he was betraying me i couldn't…” He took a shaky breath, 

Mycroft sighed and  other than making certain the man ate something- it wouldn't do to have him faint-they both sat quietly  through the remaining flight time. Neither of them quite knowing what to do, or say.

Moriarty showed a flicker of interest at the security on Mycroft’s house, but then they were walking in and Parker was staring at them… _ah he’d been watching the outside camera._

“Mister Buckley… ah ...Moriarty?” Patrick swallowed hard and then looked up at Mycroft. “Sir?”

“ a very long story- is Sebastian?”

“In the garden, sir: we… ah… thought maybe some sun…?”

“In London?” Moriarty snorted, “the man’s used to India and Afghanistan- London doesn't have sun.” he glanced at Mycroft, “Hard as it is to believe i don’t know the layout of your house.”

Mycroft walked him past several other stunned men- a few snapping to attention by reflex, others just gaping- until they reached the garden.  

Sebastian looked a bit better than he had in the hospital, but compared to  before? He was lying listlessly in a lounge chair, pale, having lost a great deal of weight… he had the urn beside him.

Having been away, Mycroft expected the difference in Sebastian’s appearance would be a shock to the man and it was: Moriarty looked horrified.

… and then abruptly screeched, “Basher?!  The FUCK are you doing to my property!”

Mycroft jumped: Sebastian  acted exactly as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on a cat-  scrambling and tangling in the lounge chair: he eventually ended up on his feet  spun around staring…

Understandably he looked as though he was seeing a ghost. “...Jim…?”

Moriarty stalked up to him and glared. “You have a lot of work to get back in shape, Tiger; how the hell are you going to  protect me when it looks like a stiff breeze would take you over?”

“...you… you…” and then a look of utter horror, “you let me think you were DEAD!”

In an abruptly softer voice- Mycroft was reminded of how rapidly the man’s moods and voice changed- Moriarty said, “I thought… I thought you’d be happier without me…”

“WHAT?!”

Mycroft cleared his throat, “Someone told him that we knew each other, and either deliberately or incidentally led him to believe that you were… my agent.”  Mycroft nodded at the man, “Sherlock found some evidence that he might be alive, and… I finally found out that the condition of the body didn't match. I immediately pursued that lead and found him.”  Mycroft cleared his throat again, “I was bringing him back a bit forcefully when i found out he thought...we were… that you were working for me.”

Sebastian opened and closed his mouth. “You… you thought I was a TRAITOR?”

“Wellllll… maybe?” Moriarty muttered, “Or a really good honeytrap.” 

“Why didn't you just SHOOT me?!”

Moriarty muttered something darkly and then said, “Don't ask stupid questions, Sebastian.”

“You…” Sebastian turned to the urn of ‘Moriarty’s ashes’ lying next to the overturned chaise lounge. “... i thought you were dead…”

Moriarty growled and reached up, grabbing Sebastian by the hair on the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Mycroft’s eyes widened as he watched Moriarty manhandle Tiger and… _did he BITE him?_

“Small dog syndrome…” Mycroft muttered, “more aggressive… understatement, clearly.”

When they finally broke apart- and yes, Sebastian had blood dripping from his lip- Sebastian very quietly said, “If… if you aren't...don’t leave.”

“I thought… well never mind: if i thought you were real, i wouldn't have left- hell i wouldn't have bothered coming back to England and … oh hell.” Moriarty put a hand over his eyes.

“You both get migraines…” Sebastian said looking around, “let’s… go inside.”

…

Mycroft put the rest of the team on outside guard- which they all seemed quite grateful for- no one wanted to be in the blast radius.  Moriarty got Sebastian to eat more than Mycroft had by the simple expedient of being there: He also threatened him repeatedly if he didn't improve his diet, but that seemed superfluous. Sebastian mostly stared at him with emotions flashing across his face so quickly as to be almost indistinguishable, alternating with dazed shock.

After  they ate, Mycroft reiterated that Moriarty had apparently believed Sebastian was an agent of Mycroft’s - possibly a current lover.  Sebastian protested vehemently that this was not the case, and Moriarty quietly said “i… can see that… now.”

“Why didn't you SAY anything? Why didn't you try to talk to me? Or just shoot me!”

Moriarty winced and rubbed his forehead, “I… told you, Sebie… I don't… I don't LET people get close to me, and you did… so when I found out you were…” he just shook his head. “‘I’ve been burned too many times… and I should have had you killed… I just… couldn't.”

Mycroft leaned forward and looked firmly at Moriarty. “I would be delighted, frankly, if you ceased to exist in some way that didn't cause Sebastian to become suicidally depressed, but as that doesn't seem to be possible, Mister Moriarty, we have some terms to discuss.”

“Not just throwing me back in your cells?”

“I promised Tiger that i wouldn't- don’t push it.”

“Um.” He looked down at his tea. “I… assume Sherly made it ok? He was planning for it…”

“He is alive, if not well, and he found the indications that YOU were alive, which is when I started looking.”

“Really?” he smiled somewhat wistfully, “well… he’s me:  I guess he could.”

“Why did you send me away?” Sebastian asked quietly.

“Because I'd decided that if I wasn't going to kill you, i was going to have to fake my death… and… I was going to take a knife to your lover or boss on the way out.” he looked up at Mycroft, “Sorry?” he shrugged, “That was really all aimed at you… because… Sebastian…”

“I rather gathered that once i found out what you thought was going on.” Mycroft sighed, “So first of all, you will leave me, my brother, and our direct associates alone: any violation of that and I will have you shot- regardless of Sebastian’s interests.”

“Fair enough.” Jim muttered. 

“You are also going to coordinate with me to get Sherlock back safely, call off any further threats on his friends, and so on.”

Moriarty mostly grumbled, but he was holding Sebastian’s hand and hadn't let go- Mycroft took that as assent.

“You will be reporting in to me on a regular basis so that we can be certain whatever you ARE doing isn't bringing you into conflict with my work.”

Jim made a face, but nodded.

“Finally you are taking Sebastian- and as many of his people as needed for his health and well being- and going somewhere where he can recover, eat properly, and exercise- i suggest someplace where he can be kept away from drink as well until he gets over his self induced destructive habits.” Mycroft stood up with his hands pressed down on the table and glared down at the man, “And you will do everything in your power to make amends.”

Moriarty, as usual, didn't look threatened in the slightest- although Sebastian looked a bit impressed. 

“I was going to do that anyway.”

“I expect regular reports- i had to watch him coming apart after all, I expect to get some pleasant reports about his recovery.”

“I… never thought you cared about anyone but sherly-locks.”

“I never thought you cared about anyone.” Mycroft retorted.

Sebastian- not letting go of Moriarty’s hand- stood up and leaned across the table.  He kissed Mycroft gently, “Thank you, Michael.”

“If you ever do get tired of him, you know where to find me.” Mycroft nodded, feeling both heart broken and somehow reassured at the same time.

“We… have a lot to talk about, but…” Sebastian shook his head, “I owe you.”

Moriarty grinned faintly- the term having some rather different connotations of late.  Mycroft just sighed, “As always, Tiger, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, you  sweet ginger rebel.”

He was turning to go, with Moriarty, when Moriarty stopped dead and turned back to Mycroft, “wait… sweet ginger rebel?!” he looked back  at Sebastian incredulously, “seriously?! HIM?! Mister ‘someone actually replaced him with a stuffed suit and no one noticed’? HIM?!”

Sebastian grinned, “Do you see why I didn't think your description of Holmes was my Michael?”

“I am neither a sweet rebel, nor a stuffed suit- neither of you are unbiased-” Mycrroft shook his head, “however, yes, what’s left of my hair is in fact ginger if i stop dying it.”

It didn't take long for Sebastian to be packed to go to one of Moriarty’s homes in London.  Some of his team would pack up more slowly, and he was leaving a few as subsidiary security for Mycroft.

As he was giving last orders to the team staying back, Moriarty walked up to Mycroft. “So… uh… no joke this time, but I do owe you… also, can you apologize to Sherly?  I mean he made it easy with aggravating everyone, but… I can make it a bit easier to … fix some of his rep.”

“Do.” Mycroft snorted, “and indeed, when Sebastian told me my brother was being called in to court i did correctly predict his being held on contempt- yes he made it far too easy for you.”

“I … honestly… thought-”

“Having been the target of honeytraps and similar- not to mention innumerable traitors and spies- i do, in fact, understand professionally… if not personally.”

Moriarty nodded slowly, “I fell for one, once… he stabbed me in the back- literally- and tried to take my assets: that was a long time ago, but… “  he took his sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on. “Hopefully we can… at least go back to civil business.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “Ah… likely: your professional work was excellent, as long as you stay away from… personal matters.” he nodded, “Mister Moriarty.”

“In business? Its Moriarty,” he looked back over at Sebastian, who turned and … his whole face lit up again looking at Moriarty.  Moriarty looked back at Mycroft, “Call me Jim, and… I’m pleasantly surprised to find you aren't who I thought you were.”

“In personal matters,” Mycroft said slowly, “its Mycroft- or more likely Michael as that is what Sebastian uses.”

Jim glanced at Sebastian who was at his side in a few strides, “Come on Tiger: I’m under orders to make amends…” he smirked, “I don't think i do that the way he thinks…”

“I don’t care, as long as you don't leave me again.”

Watching them walk out together, Sebastian damn near clinging to Jim Moriarty,  was intensely painful… but at least he could be certain Sebastian was going to recover.

That was the important part.

He got himself a tea, and had one of the security fellows pour him a measured scotch and get out a few pastries… and set about placing a call to his brother…

_He was going to be inordinately smug, I just know it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the main storyline.  
> There will be an epilogue (and possibly a sequel, but i have a lot of works to catch up on)


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never smooth , it's never simple, and it's never exactly “over’ but….

The months after Moriarty’s return from the dead (unofficially) were a combination of peaceful and painful- with very little warning as to which one he would be dealing with.

...

It was to be expected that  the reunion between Sebastian and Moriarty- Jim- was neither smooth nor simple: there were screaming matches and in a few cases thrown objects, and in one painful case a few days during which Sebastian lived on Mycroft’s sofa.

Mycroft managed, just barely, to refrain from trying to convince him to leave Jim during that low period- it was tempting.  They sat and talked and Mycroft pointed out that he would be delighted if he broke up with Moriarty-Jim- but… any resumption of their relationship would have to wait until he was recovered. Sebastian thanked him later- they both knew it would have been a guilt stricken disaster….

It still hurt.

Moriarty showed up at random intervals- yes at Mycroft’s home- and went into ranting fits.  At first it was extremely alarming, but eventually Mycroft realized it was, in an odd way, a measure of trust.  Jim trusted him to be someone to hear him out… even if hearing him out was sometimes bizarre and rather disturbing.

There were points at which it reminded him of his brother on drugs… he eventually sat both of them down and broached the topic… only for both Sebastian and himself to be stunned by Moriarty’s casual admission that he was, in fact, diagnosed bi-polar but didn't take the medication because someone had tried to poison him once that way.  He refused to see a doctor due to - not irrational- security concerns…

While Mycroft was still trying to deal with that revelation, Jim went and kidnapped John Watson.

Admittedly he kidnapped him to Mycroft’s HOUSE, but it was still alarming to come home from work and find Jim speaking sincerely and reasonably to a bound and gagged- and furious- Watson.  Mycroft stared at the scene for a full minute trying to process it.

“Ah… may i ask…?”

“Just apologizing to Johnny!” Jim sang out, “Can you make tea? I think he likes tea…?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to apologize… ah… sans restraints?”

“Noooo? I’m pretty sure he’d try to kill me…”

The aggressive snarling through the gag and glares at Mycroft did seem to confirm that theory. Mycroft made tea- and got out some sweets- and went back out.  It took a good hour to get the man calmed down enough to be safe to let him loose of the restraints, but he did listen… 

Surprisingly the fact that Jim was  in desperate need of both therapy and medication helped his anger to subside, and the fact that he had felt personally betrayed also apparently had some sympathy. The fact that Jim didn't react at all to threats against himself, but that BOTH of them immediately bristled at threats to Sebastian…(Mycroft demanding that John “leave him out of this!” And Jim pulling a knife and threatening to turn him into a gun case for Sebie)… seemed to oddly help the man settle down? He mostly smiled faintly and muttered something about Sherlock.

Watson was a very strange man.

He ended up going out to help Sherlock clean up the last few issues before he could return home.

...

Jim did in fact turn over all the evidence needed to exonerate Sherlock.  Sadly Sherlock’s own tendency to aggravate the wrong people slowed the process down, but he would be able to return home soon enough, and having Watson with him helped keep Mycroft’s concerns about drug use down to a minimum.

He had been, of course, unbearably smug about Moriarty’s return… and  tried- failed, but at least he did try- to be considerate of Mycroft’s feelings toward his ex, and Jim.

Mycroft was not looking forward to Sherlock and Jim being in the same room again…

...

While Mycroft was trying to find  a doctor that could be trusted to evaluate Jim for a new prescription- as well as verifying the correct diagnosis- one Charles Augustus Magnussen tried to blackmail Mycroft about his relationship with “Moriarty’s second in command”..

Mycroft merely coolly asked, “and why would you think you can publish government security matters?”

“Your affairs are hardly-”

“Sebastian Moran is a registered agent of MI6 and has been since  at least 2009.” _I should know, I arranged it._

He could see Magnussen reevaluating, wondering if he had accidentally hit upon the truth when he claimed that Sebastian was disloyal.

“He… infiltrated… were you aware he was in a relationship with Moriarty? A rather PERSONAL one?”

“Yes, why?” Mycroft frowned at him, “You are rapidly becoming more trouble than benefit, Mister Magnussen- i will remind you that  publishing anything covered by the Official Secrets Act is subject to severe penalties.”

He told Jim, of course.  

Jim bit his lip and glanced around before sighing and saying one of the last things Mycroft expected to hear: “I was working with him… before.”

“Pardon?” Mycroft frowned and Sebastian sat down with a tray of tea and biscuits.

“I would… pass on information from all you Ultra Clearance folks- mostly the personal things you had me doing- in exchange for… well partly for him leaving me alone, and partly for other information i could use.” he sighed, “And he probably got upset when I wouldn't give him the information on Sherlock… and… maybe that's… why? I don't know: he’s slime.”

“He… has traded information with the government and unfortunately has blackmail on some high level individuals…” Mycroft looked at the other two, “I believe he has outlived his usefulness.”

Sebastian perked up immediately, “I’ve been bored…! “

“He’s… dangerous Sebie.”

“He is dangerous because of blackmail and leverage, not physically.” Mycroft amended.

“What happens if he dies?”

Jim sighed, “his blackmail gets published or released… its… awkward.”

Mycroft frowned, “Every year that goes by with him gathering more data, the risks become worse: it is only logical to remove him sooner than later.” he glanced at Jim, “His information on you would be… irrelevant: you’re dead.”

Sebastian frowned, “he has information on you?”

Mycroft nodded, “it… is obvious to me, yes.”

“Then we have to kill him before he finds out you’re back.” Sebastian said with a peculiarly determined glint in his eyes, “and he’s trying to get his hooks in Mycroft too, now…”

“Oh he already has some, but… again, it gets worse as he has more time to work… I agree, Tiger, he should be removed before he finds out Moriarty did not die on that roof.”

Since the mission seemed to perk Tiger up- and both he and Jim were relieved to see him taking an interest in things again- they merely gave him all their available information and let him handle it.

He vanished, along with his team, and both Jim and Mycroft fretted more with each day that had no news, and nothing apparently befalling Magnussen.  After a week - when both of them were alternately at each other’s throats and trying to reassure each other that Sebastian would be quite alright- Magnussen and his driver died in a violent car crash…

There was still no word form Sebastian.

A week after that Sebastian sauntered into Mycroft’s house- where he and Jim were respectively sitting and pacing in worry.

“Honey, I’m home!” 

Sebastian looked more like his old self, Mycroft noted with relief: the edges of violence, the predatory walk, but the old open sincere smile back on his face as well.

Jim threw himself at the man, ended up in his arms with his legs wrapped around Sebastian’s waist, snarling threats at him: by now Mycroft recognized his version of affection and worry.

“We were both quite concerned.” Mycroft  admitted.

“Hmm?” Sebastian swung Jim, still growling threats and now apparently biting at him, to one side and leaned in to kiss Mycroft gently. “No need to worry about me!”

“If you hadn't turned up soon he would have reason to worry: I would have hunted you down!” Jim growled- the menace lacking since he growled it into Sebastian’s shirt.

“Ooohhh, you say the SWEETEST things,” Tiger laughed, wrapped his free arm around Mycroft and pulled them both onto the sofa.

Mycroft tried to straighten himself up, but Tiger was in one of his tactile and happy moods, and frankly Mycroft couldn't bring himself to push him away. “So… er… Magnussen died last week…”

Sebastian put Jim down on the other side of him on the sofa and draped his arms over each of them. “Nope!  He died… oh… yesterday? Lovely thing about car crashes and blackmailers- so many people happy to see him gone they helped out with the identification.”

“Ah?” Mycroft couldn't help but look impressed.

“Details, Sebie, DETAILS!” Jim said delightedly, moving in closer to his other side.

Mycroft got the basic facts that he had extracted a great deal of the man’s blackmail information from him- as well as where the few hard copies were kept- and then he went to make something in the kitchen while Jim listened raptly to details Mycroft didn't want to hear.

It was as he was sitting down at the table with the finished pie, with Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran and his brother due home- alive and his reputation more or less redeemed- in less than a month, that he realized…

_I’m happy?_

He had people he could trust, and people he could talk to… and his brother was still clean- and Jim promised to help-… it was by no means completely resolved, but…Mycroft watched Sebastian and Jim eating the pie he’d baked, while he sipped his tea.

_I'm actually… happy._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes international red hair day is May 26th  
> https://www.wcnc.com/mobile/article/news/nation-world/world-redhead-day-is-may-26-12-fun-facts-about-red-hair/507-c59fdc75-6a39-4336-ab06-670c00ef9a04
> 
> Yes both of the ACTORS cast as Mycroft Holmes (Mark Gatiss) and Sebastian Moran (michael Fassbender) are red heads.  
> In Sebastian's case when he isnt sun bleached its a deep russet. In Mycroft's case its a brighter red, but he starts to dye it brown to avoid attention or issues with work.
> 
> https://youtu.be/1Gf3mDOftKI


End file.
